Changing Course
by Saintsavory
Summary: Two unexpected things change the course of Alex's life: First, she becomes a mother and years later, she meets Piper.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: I worked on this story over the holidays, and it has sat mostly unattended for two months. I picked it back up today, though I must admit I've lost the motivation that I once had to complete it. It's 95% done, but I really need encouragement to wrap it up. Also, I don't like the title, but it's all I could come up with before posting. As the end of OITNB becomes real, so is my writing of fanfiction. This might be it folks.

**Warning**: There is a character death (not Alex or Piper) in this story, and it comes in the first chapter.

* * *

Making my way downtown every day is a lesson in patience. After being considerably late to work four days in a row, I learned my lesson the hard way and decided to board the Subway 30 minutes earlier. Before moving to the Upper West Side, my commute was a cool ten minutes, now I'm lucky if I get to the financial district in less than an hour. I've tried taxis, Ubers and driving my own car, but no matter which route I take, the public transit always wins.

"Mommy, I can see the shape of Hilda's baby!"

The nanny rubs her tummy and ruffles Harper's hair.

I shove a sandwich into her lunch sack and turn to Hilda with an apologetic expression. "I don't think that's something you say out loud, kiddo."

"It's fine," Hilda replies in her faint Norwegian accent. "And it's true, look."

I glance at her bulging belly, and my daughter is right: you can almost see the shape of a baby in her womb.

"Two more weeks of getting around like this," she sighs. "If the baby doesn't come out on its own, they'll induce on the 25th."

"I think you look beautiful."

"That's what my husband tells me," she lets out a soft chuckle. "But I find it hard to believe when I feel like a whale."

I smile at her. "I better get going." I tuck my laptop into my bag. "Harper, what kind of day will it be today?"

"A great day," she shouts.

"A great day indeed." I kiss the top of her head. "I'll see you tonight. And remember no potato chips not even if your friends offer."

She pokes her hands in the air. "What am I going to eat with my sandwich?"

"Hilda will pack some orange wedges."

"I don't like oranges," she pouts.

I know she likes oranges—she ate one last night, but I'm not going to pick a fight with her this morning. "Then choose another fruit." I sling my bag over a shoulder. "We have grapes, apples and one banana left."

"I'll take it from here," Hilda says, pulling the red grapes out of the fridge.

"Thank you." I squeeze my daughter's arm before heading out, and I'm only five minutes behind schedule.

I don't know what I'd do without Hilda, but I'm about to find out since she's going to have a baby any day now. I called Morningside Nannies to get the paperwork started on a temp while Hilda is out, and now it's just a matter of them matching me with someone who can commit to the hours when I need coverage.

As I walk down the steps into the Subway station, I smile when I realize it's Tuesday. Every Tuesday and Thursday for the past couple of weeks I've ridden in the same Subway car as a woman whose head is buried in _The New York Times_. Her blonde hair and rosy cheeks make her look younger than I am but not _too_ young.

I step into the eighth car, glance to my right and spot her. My lips tug up. Sure enough, she's reading the newspaper with earbuds in both ears and tapping her foot to the beat. Every few minutes, she fiddles with her iPod, presumably to change the song or adjust the volume. Her jean-clad legs are crossed, and she has on a blue, lace trimmed t-shirt. Her hair is in a ponytail today, making her look younger than she typically does. I wonder what she does for a living—works in a coffee shop? A restaurant? A florist? She's dressed too casually to work in a professional environment.

The Subway is crowded and there are other attractive passengers on board, but I can't tear my eyes away from this woman. I can't pinpoint what it is about her that's particularly intriguing besides the curve of her lips or the way she concentrates on the newspaper, but she's captured my attention without even trying.

As we approach the 23rd Street stop, she folds the newspaper, tucks it under her arm and stands, and for the first time since I've noticed her on this route, our eyes meet. I quickly look away as if I've been caught staring. She gets off the Subway and walks briskly to the stairwell, and I'm left with a pang of disappointment that I missed an opportunity to say hello.

* * *

"_What would I do without you?" Nicky holds my hand from her position in an all-too-familiar bed. I think this might even be the same room she was in six months ago._

"_Let's hope you never have to find out."_

_For the second time this year, I'm the one who convinced Nicky to return to the rehab facility in Castle Hill. She and I have been close friends since community college, and while she lasted only one semester, I got my associate's degree before enrolling at Wagner College to get a bachelor's degree._

"_The unfortunate thing is I _**will**_ have to find out some day," she says with a frown. "I'm not getting any better."_

"_That's because you don't follow the steps," I try._

"_Yeah, well I'm not real good with instructions if you haven't noticed."_

_I squeeze her hand before releasing it. "If you don't get better for yourself, do it for Harper."_

_Nicky looks away, and I know this is the hardest part for her. "Sorry she has to stay with you again while I'm this joint."_

"_I love spending time with her," I reply. "Even though she doesn't really have a personality yet."_

_That makes her chuckle. "I'm still waiting for your personality to shine, too, Vause."_

"_Fuck off." I grin. _

_She's quiet for a moment, and the way her eyes move back and forth while her mouth is pursed, I know she's thinking of how to tell me something important. Finally, she spits it out. "The lawyer should have the paperwork ready by the end of the week."_

"_You're not going to die, Nicky." I try to laugh, but my attempt falls short and it comes out as more of a cough. "Besides, I don't know why you'd want _**me**_ to be Harper's guardian when your mom is a fucking millionaire."_

"_No fucking way will my mother take care of my child. She doesn't even know Harper exists and it's going to stay that way," Nicky states firmly. "She wouldn't even believe I have a kid since I'm a loud and proud dyke."_

"_True."_

_At one of her lowest points, Nicky slept with her friend's brother in order to score Heroin. She didn't realize she was pregnant until six weeks later. Nicky went back and forth about whether to keep the baby, ultimately deciding it would be the one thing to keep her away from drugs. The doctor performed a series of tests throughout her pregnancy to ensure the baby wasn't affected by Nicky's drug use, and fortunately, they saw no signs of trauma or in-ureteral addiction. And she did it—Nicky was clean for the duration of her pregnancy. The only effect of her drug use was that Harper was born premature and considerably underweight. It wasn't until Harper was four months old when Nicky began using again. Because we lived together, I took care of the baby while Nicky tried to get clean on her own, but it was no use. Sadly, I'm convinced there's no out for her—this is the life Nicky has chosen for herself despite having a child to raise._

"_Visiting hours are over. I'm sure they'll shoo me out of here in the next five minutes if I don't leave on my own." I stand. "I'll bring Harper next week."_

"_Why so long?"_

_I shrug. "Doctor's orders."_

"_Fucking doctors."_

_I kiss her forehead. "Get better soon." _

"_I'll try."_

* * *

"Morning, Alex," the receptionist greets me.

"Hi, Kiera." I retrieve a stack of mail from a metal box on the corner of her desk. "How was your date last night?"

"It was ok." She shrugs. "The guy still lives with his parents. That's a deal breaker for me."

"Ugh, that sucks," I reply. "I'm just impressed you keep putting yourself out there."

"I'll never find Mr. Right if I don't put some effort into it," she says. "At least that's what my grandma tells me.

"Grandma's know best."

Kiera tilts her head. "What about you? I don't think you've been on a date since I started working here—at least not one you've shared with me."

"Imagine my dating profile," I chuckle. "Thirty-six year old single mom with a kid who happens to be under the age of five."

Kiera laughs. "I could help you with the wording if you want."

"I'm good for now." I tap my mail on the edge of her desk. "But I'll let you know if things change."

My company occupies the entire fourth floor of a small office building on Rector Place. It's an open concept office with no walls save for a conference room on the south side of the building. Although I'm one of the principle partners, my area/office is no bigger than our most junior staff member's.

I hear our CFO whistling one Beatles song or another as he reaches my office and perches on the corner of my desk. "Morning, Alex. How's the Newport property coming along?"

"Fine." I rifle through the mail, looking for anything important. "Speaking of..." I hand him an envelope. "This is for you."

He rips the envelope open and a check falls to the floor. He bends down to retrieve it and smiles. "Thanks. Have a good day."

"I'll have a _great_ day," I say to myself.

* * *

On Thursday morning, I make my way to the Subway station with a bounce in my step. Sure enough, as I enter the eighth car the blonde is in her usual seat reading _The New York Times_. The seat next to her is unoccupied, so I decide to take my chance and sit next to her. When I'm about three steps away, an elderly woman who I hadn't noticed before sits next to the blonde, foiling my chances once again at making introductions. I hold on to the handrail as the train picks up speed, cursing myself for not moving quicker.

The elderly woman taps the younger one on the arm and she removes one of her earbuds. The Subway is too loud for me to hear their conversation, but the blonde smiles as she points to the map the older woman is holding. Her smile is spectacular, and as it turns out, contagious. She touches the elderly woman on the elbow before placing the earbud back in her ear and returning her attention to the newspaper.

As the train slows to the 23rd Street station, the woman shoves the paper into her bag and gets to her feet. This time when our eyes meet, I don't look away. I'm drawn to her deep blue eyes and try not to blink so as not to miss a second of this potentially one-sided connection. She gives me a soft, toothless smile as she exits the car. I let out the breath I'd been holding as I watch her walk away…again.

* * *

Another week goes by, but the Subway is too crowded for me reach the blonde. If she sat in the same seat each trip, this would be easier, but she's in a different spot every day, always with her head buried in the paper even while standing. The one time when it seems I have a chance to make my way towards her, a woman with a baby stroller shoves her way through the doors, parking the crying baby in front of me.

This week has been incredibly busy at work, but if I don't go to the grocery store today, my daughter will have nothing more to eat than peanut butter and Cheerios. We ran out of bread yesterday and the jelly has been gone since Monday. Harper ate the last apple this morning and I took the shriveled bunch of grapes and a granola bar to work.

As expected, Zabar's is crowded at seven on a Friday evening, but I made a grocery list ahead of time to be as efficient as possible. Usually Hilda does the grocery shopping for me, but with it being her third trimester, I want to make life as easy as possible for her. Besides, it's only temporary.

The last aisle I need to hit is the refrigerated section where I'll grab orange juice, yogurt and cream cheese before getting out of here.

"Do you know anything about cheeses?"

I look to my right astonished to see the attractive woman from the Subway, sniffing a wedge of cheese. I can feel my mouth hanging open at my surprise and my eyebrows shooting up like darts. I lick my lips and quickly recover. "I know it comes from cows…sometimes goats."

"I'm aware of that." She looks up with a casual smile, and then her expression shifts as if she seems to recognize me but can't quite place it. "How do I…"

"Know me?" I push my glasses higher on my nose. "We ride the same Subway line a couple times a week."

She nods slowly, eyes still latched on to mine. "Oh."

"I've been meaning to say hi, but…" I trail off.

"I'm Piper." She sticks her hand out.

"Alex." I shake it. "It's nice to finally put a name with a face."

She smiles. "It is."

I turn the conversation back to her original question. "Anyway, what I _do_ know about cheese is that there are three kinds: soft, semi-soft and hard."

"Oh, right." She turns her attention back to the variety of cheeses in the case. "I'm supposed to bring some to this party I'm headed to, but I'm not sure what kind to buy. The choices are a little overwhelming."

"Maybe one of each." I shrug.

"Good idea." She picks up a Camembert, a Manchego and a smoked Gouda. "Thank you."

"No problem." I don't want our conversation to end but I'm too chicken shit to ask for her number. I'm definitely out of practice.

Piper places the cheeses into her basket. "I guess I'll see you on the Subway next week."

"Yeah." I smile and wave. "Have fun at the party. I hope they like the cheeses."

She returns my smile. "I'm sure they will."

With that, Piper walks away, and I'm left standing there with a silly grin on my face.

* * *

Instead of taking the Subway back home, I decide to walk the six blocks. The air is dry and warm, and I want to hold on to it for as long as it lasts. Winters can be brutal in New York, and I intend to take advantage of the warm evenings of late summer as much as possible.

My thoughts on the walk are mostly consumed with Piper and our chance meeting. If she shops at that Zabar's, she must live around here unless she chose that location because of its proximity to the party she was going to. She looked different than when she rides the Subway—instead of jeans and a t-shirt, she had on a dress and a yellow cardigan. Her hair was down and brushed thoroughly like she'd just gotten it professionally styled. When she's on the Subway, it looks like she rolls out of bed, puts minimal effort into her appearance, and then heads out the door. Not that I'm complaining—she's attractive either way. And her smile…

My phone vibrates, and when I see the number, I'm startled.

"Hi, Hilda? Is everything ok?"

"My water just broke." Her voice is laced with fear.

"Are you sure?" It's not that I don't believe her; I'm just in shock.

"Yes."

"I'll right there." I shove the phone into my pocket and run as fast as I can with three grocery bags in hand.

A few minutes later, I rush inside, eyes first landing on my daughter.

"Is she going to be ok?" Harper asks, biting her fingernails.

I run my hand down the back of her head. "She's going to be fine." I drop the groceries and kneel in front of Hilda. "Did you call 911?"

She shakes her head. "I called my husband. He should be here any minute."

"With all due respect," I put a hand on her knee. "I think you need immediate medical attention."

"We don't have emergency medical coverage," she says. "Erik can take me to the hospital. I'll be ok."

It makes me uncomfortable, but who am I to tell her what to do? I turn to my daughter. "Will you get Hilda a wet a washcloth?"

She nods, and then takes off upstairs

I give Hilda the best smile I can muster. "Everything is going to be fine."

There's a frantic knock on the door, and then Erik busts inside. "Hilda?"

"Over here," I call.

He sits next to her and they briefly converse in Norwegian. "Can you help me get her to the car?"

Harper runs downstairs. "Here you go." She hands the wet washcloth to Hilda.

"Thank you."

Erik and I stand on both sides of Hilda and help her walk to the front door.

"It hurts," she pants.

"I know, sweetie. The hospital is just around the corner," Erik states. "You can do this."

Harper looks up at me. "Why does it hurt to have a baby?"

I open the car door and assist Hilda to a horizontal position in the back seat.

"Because it has to come out of her tummy, and the baby is big."

"Babies are tiny," she reasons.

"Let's get Hilda settled, and then we can talk," I respond.

Erik jumps into the driver's seat.

"I'll be thinking of you." I squeeze Hilda's hand. "Good luck."

They speed off, and I place a hand on my daughter's shoulder. "You ok?"

Her forehead wrinkles. "It scared me when Hilda was crying."

"I know, kiddo." I bend to her eye level. "But she's going to have a baby, and then she'll be happier than ever."

"I want her to be happy." Harper issues a tiny smile. "How did she make a baby grow inside of her?"

I stand and sigh, figuring this question would come up eventually but certainly not before she's even five. "Let's go inside and I'll explain."

She jogs up the steps, and I follow her into the kitchen. I'd forgotten all about the groceries, so I quickly put the cold items in the fridge and let Harper help me store the dry goods in the pantry.

"Babies are made in different ways," I begin. "Usually, it's when a man and a woman love each other so much that they want to bring a child into the world."

She places a loaf of bread on the bottom shelf. "A man and a woman?"

"Yeah, like Hilda and her husband, Erik," I state. "They love each other and made a baby. When the baby is born, they'll be a mommy and a daddy."

She crinkles her forehead. "Why don't I have a daddy?"

I've dreaded this question since I became Harper's legal guardian. "Because you're special."

* * *

_I'm woken from a deep sleep in the middle of the night by the shrill sound of my phone. At first, I wonder if I'm dreaming. I look to my left and see a slumbering Harper in her crib. Since Nicky's relapse, the baby has slept in my room instead of her mother's._

"_Hello?"_

"_Hello, with whom am I speaking?"_

_I don't recognize the voice on the other end of the line. "Who is this?"_

"_My name is Susan, and I'm the admitting nurse at St. Clare's Hospital. I called the number listed on a patient's file. Will you please identify yourself?"_

_I sit up, feeling my pulse increase. "Alex Vause."_

"_You're listed as Nicole Nichols' emergency contact."_

"_Nicky?" I ask in a harsh whisper. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed. "Is she ok?"_

"_I'm afraid not. Ms. Nichols has been admitted to our hospital, and we need to operate on her immediately."_

_I feel sweat forming on my brow. "What?"_

"_It's protocol for us to call her emergency contact."_

"_I'm on my way." I hurriedly get dressed in mis-matched clothes, and then bundle Harper up before running downstairs. I almost trip on one of her toys, but I catch myself before falling. The baby starts to cry and I'm about to cry with her. I tell myself to hold it together—at least until I get more information._

_The cab drops us off at the Emergency Room, and Harper hasn't stopped crying. "Hello? Can someone please tell me where Nicky Nichols is?"_

_A male nurse greets me. "Can I help you?"_

"_I'm here to see Nicky Nichols." I pat Harper on the back to try to soothe her; she hasn't stopped crying since we left the house._

_He rifles through a file. "I'll need to see a photo ID."_

_Thank God I put my wallet in the diaper bag before leaving._

"_I'll let the doctor know you're here." He slowly saunters away as if this isn't a big fucking deal._

"_Please just tell me where she is—how she's doing," I plead._

_He just continues walking._

_Another nurse who looks to be nearing the age of retirement walks over. "There, there little one. Don't cry." She reaches for Harper. "May I?"_

_I nod, handing the infant to her. I run my hands through my messy hair and check my phone to see if I missed a call while I was in the cab. Nothing. As I pace in the small waiting room, the nurse soothes Harper to the point of her falling back asleep._

_Ten minutes later, a man in scrubs greets me. "Ms. Vause?" _

"_Yes." I take three long strides to meet him at the silver, swinging doors._

"_I'm Dr. Ehrenreich. Please come with me."_

"_I…the baby…" I twist my neck around to look at her. _

_The nurse follows us with Harper still fast asleep._

_We reach a sterile room with two chairs and a window overlooking the parking lot. There's a small lamp on the side table providing just enough light for me to see the doctor._

"_Why is it so dark?"_

_He gestures to one of the chairs. "Please have a seat."_

"_I don't want to sit," I shout, failing at my attempt to remain calm. "What's going on with Nicky? When can I see her?"_

"_Nicole developed a condition called bacterial endocarditis," he begins, hands on his hips. "It's an infection on the inner lining of the heart. It generally occurs when bacteria or other germs from another part of the body spreads through the bloodstream and attaches to damaged areas in the heart." He pauses. "We suspect the cause of Ms. Nichols' bacterial endocarditis is from using a dirty needle."_

_I'm completely stunned. I shake my head in small bursts._

"_We also found traces of cocaine in her body," he reports._

_I bow my head and suck in my lips. "Is she going to be ok?"_

"_We tried to perform open-heart surgery, but we lost her," he says quietly. "I'm so sorry."_

"_No." I collapse in one of the chairs, head in my hands, and feel tears prickling my eyes. "This can't be happening. I saw her this morning!"_

_I feel a hand on my back as tears begin to fall. How could this be? Why did Nicky do this to herself? The only thing that brings me back to the present is a crying baby…Harper. I take her from the nurse and rock her back and forth as we both cry._

_My life changed forever that day._

* * *

The memory of Nicky's death catches me off guard. I think about that night often, but it's usually when all is quiet and I'm alone.

"Mommy?"

I snap back to reality. "Hmm?"

Harper's lips jut to the side like she's contemplating my answer. "Did my daddy die like Original Mommy?"

"No." I kneel in front of her. "Your daddy helped…_create_ you, but he's not around, so you only had Original Mommy to take care of you for your first year, and then I came along to be your forever mom."

She scratches her head.

"I know it's confusing." I brush the reddish-brown hair off her forehead. "But you know I love you with my whole heart, right?"

She nods.

"What do you say we make dinner together? You can break the carrots."

"Ok."

I wrap my arms around her and sigh, hoping as I do every single day that I made the right decision to raise her. I know one thing for certain: I love Harper with every ounce of my being, and I can't imagine not having her in my life, though it doesn't make me miss Nicky any less.

As we prepare a later than usual dinner together, it hits me: I don't have another nanny lined up. Hilda was supposed to work for one more week before going on maternity leave, and the agency I used to hire her was going to find a temporary nanny who would meet Harper and I next Wednesday. The agency is surely not open at 8 pm on a Friday night, so I decide to place a call the next morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Thanks for so many words of encouragement for me to finish this story and continue writing! We'll see what this final season holds for our girls and if I feel the urge to write more later this year. I forgot to say this really is OOC.

* * *

Because Harper is in pre-school from 8:30 to 3:30 during the week, I only need to alter my work schedule slightly that first week Hilda is out. The good news is that I can do much of my job from home, so arriving late and leaving early isn't a big deal on most days. On Wednesday however, I take the entire day off so I can meet Harper's new nanny, spend some time with both of them and observe their interactions. The agency is clear about the importance of a bond between the child and the nanny they assign, so if things don't work out whether on the first day or in the first month, I can request a different nanny until I'm satisfied.

"What's my new nanny's name?" Harper asks, brushing her unruly hair.

"Shannon," I reply. "And she's very excited to meet you."

She puts the brush back in the drawer. "I hope I like her."

"I'm sure you will."

She jumps off the bathroom stool and we head downstairs.

The doorbell rings, and Harper flies to the door, swinging it open. "Hi, I'm Harper," she announces before I've even made it to the entryway to see who's there.

"Nice to meet you, Harper."

I finally make it around the corner and stop in my tracks when I see who's standing in my doorway. There must be some kind of mistake.

She's bent over at the waist, greeting my daughter. "My name is Piper."

"Are you my nanny?" Harper furrows her brow. "I thought your name was Shannon?"

I cross my arms and I'm sure my expression mirrors my daughter's. "So did I."

Piper stands fully and all but jumps back when noticing me. "You…" She tucks her chin. "Alex, right? From the Subway and the cheese aisle at Zabar's."

"Piper?" I take a step closer as if getting nearer to her will somehow make this more real. As soon as I do, I'm assaulted by her flowery scent. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm the nanny." Her eyebrows forming a perfect V. "Shannon took a different assignment. I had no idea you were…"

"Neither did I." I shake my head. "I don't understand…_you _were assigned to be Harper's nanny?"

Piper shrugs. "Seems that way."

"Your name sounds almost like mine," Harper states gleefully, totally unaware of the significance of who's standing in front of us.

"It sure does, but I like yours better." Piper crouches down and smiles at her. "And you want to know something else? My best friend's last name is your first name."

Harper tilts her head like she can't comprehend that notion.

"My friend's name is Polly _Harper_," Piper explains. "And yours is _Harper_ Vause."

She giggles. "What if my name was Harper Harper?"

"That would be funny," Piper adds before standing.

As the fog slowly dissipates, I step aside and motion with my arm. "Please, come in."

"This is a lovely home," Piper says as she enters the living room and looks around.

Harper grabs her hand. "Do you want to see my room? I painted it with my mommy."

"I'd love to." She looks at me as if checking to see if it's alright. "Lead the way."

My emotions are all over the place. How in the world is the woman from the Subway now our nanny? There's no way she could've known this—I never gave my photo to the agency, nor did I tell Piper my last name at Zabar's. It must be some sort of freaky coincidence. For a moment, I wonder if I should call the agency and ask for a different nanny. I have no idea what Piper's qualifications are, but I'm upset with the agency for not informing me about the switch.

I grab my phone and notice I have a new voicemail. Apparently, it came in at 7:30 this morning while my phone was still in silent mode. "This is Yvonne from Morningside Nannies, and we've had a change of placement. I'm so sorry about the late notification, but I can assure you, Piper Chapman is one of our finest, most experienced nannies. I'll send you her bio in an e-mail. Please call if you have any questions. Again, sorry for the inconvenience."

I search for the e-mail on my phone, and sure enough, there's one from the agency. I open the attachment and glance at Piper's resume. She was a neuroscience major at Smith College, received her master's degree in developmental psychology from Barnard, and is getting her Ph.D. in child psychology at Columbia University. It appears she has been babysitting or nannying since her teenage years, and she just completed a practicum in Chelsea.

I lower my phone, astonished at what has transpired. All this time, the woman on the Subway—_Piper_—was presumably going to work at a child psychology clinic.

"We're going to play with my L.O.L dolls down here," Harper announces.

Piper follows her downstairs, eyes trained on me. "Why don't you set everything up, and I'm going to talk to your mom for a minute?"

"Ok."

She walks towards me. "Did the agency not tell you about the switch?"

"I missed a call from them this morning." I glance at my phone. "And they sent me an e-mail with your bio. I just read it."

Piper puts a hand on the back of her neck, and I'm drawn to her triceps. "Is this going to be a problem?"

"No." I shake my head. "At least I don't think it will be. You seem qualified."

She gives me a small smile like I'm vastly underestimating her experience, though her expression is not laced with conceit.

"I don't understand why you'd want to be a nanny when you're getting your Ph.D."

"It pays the bills." She shrugs. "I earned minimum wage for my practicum, and I need the income from a job like this to make ends meet. Besides, the hours you're looking for assistance gives me plenty of time during the day to work on my dissertation."

"Everything is set up," Harper calls from her place on the living room rug.

"Piper will be there in a minute." I shove my hands into my pockets. "I travel about once a month for my job, so there might be a few times when I'll need you to spend the night."

"No problem," she states. "If you don't mind, I'm going to…" she hooks a thumb over her shoulder in Harper's direction.

"Enjoy." I give her a straight-lipped smile.

I sit at the kitchen table with my laptop, alternating between checking e-mail and observing Harper's interactions with Piper. Right from the start, it's easy to see that she has a way with children. She's completely at ease, she encourages creative thinking and she doesn't talk to Harper in a dumbed-down baby voice. It's evident she'll be a good nanny, and Harper seems to have formed an instant connection with her.

I try to keep the fact that I've found Piper attractive since first seeing her at bay while I watch her play with my daughter, but it's not easy. She has a yoga body—lean and strong but feminine. She uses her hands a lot when she talks, and I'm drawn to how expressive she is—I think Harper is drawn to it as well but in an entirely different way. When they're finished playing with the L.O.L dolls, Piper reads her _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_, teaching Harper a few words along the way. She's patient, kind and encouraging.

"What are you still doing here?" Harper asks me after about an hour as if she expected me to be at work.

I look up from my computer. "I took the day off, remember?"

"Oh." She walks into the kitchen. "Can I have a snack?"

"Yeah." I push my chair back. "Do you want to show Piper where everything is in the kitchen?"

"Sure."

Piper tucks away a few dolls and places the book back on the shelf. "What kind of snacks do you like?"

"Potato chips, but my mom won't let me eat them."

"That's right." I smile. "I stopped buying them when she'd eat half the bag in one sitting."

"Maybe we can discover something else that's crunchy and delicious." As she reaches for something in the pantry, Piper's t-shirt rises up revealing a sliver of her flat stomach.

"Like what? And don't say apples," Harper adds.

"Well, there's plantains, whole wheat crackers, rice cakes…"

"Crackers are just ok." She stands on the step stool and shows Piper the snacks in our pantry. "What are plantains?"

"Hmm…they're like a banana's cousin."

Harper gets a kick out of that. "Fruit doesn't have family!"

I admire the way she lets Harper do most of the talking, and if Piper needs to ask a clarifying question, she allows her to explain things further.

"You have a well-stocked pantry," Piper comments. "What's in the refrigerator?"

"Milk, orange juice, some fruit and Jell-O cups." She jumps off the stool and opens the fridge. "Can I have a red Jell-O cup?"

I cross my arms, lean against the column between the breakfast nook and kitchen and wait for Piper to respond.

"How about you eat a banana or an apple, and then the Jell-O?"

Harper stands on her tip toes and reaches for a red cup. "What if I ate the Jell-O first?"

"Jell-O is more like dessert," Piper explains. "Have you ever had kale chips?"

"No."

Piper pulls out a bunch of kale. "They're as yummy as potato chips but made from this."

She shakes her head. "I've never seen a green potato chip."

"Want to help me make some?"

"Ok." Harper sets the Jell-O cup on the counter. "I like to cook."

"Perfect; you'll be a big help."

I return to my spot at the table, switching seats so as to be a bit more inconspicuous, but I still have a full view of Piper and Harper in the kitchen. She lets my daughter wash the greens, and then shows her how to tear off the leaves. Harper giggles as she strips the kale, and then pretends that the stalk is a monster. Piper plays along with two stalks of her own, and then pulls out a baking sheet and asks Harper to lay the kale on it. She shows her how to put just a little salt into her hand and sprinkle it on the greens. Piper drizzles olive oil all over the kale, and instructs Harper to rub it in. That seems to be her favorite part as her hands are covered in the slippery oil.

Maybe it's just that I haven't observed Hilda's interactions with Harper in a long time, but their relationship feels different. Hilda played with my daughter, fed her, read to her, took her to the park, etc. but I don't recall a time when she _involved_ Harper in things. It's fair to say that Hilda has taken excellent care of her, but as far as I know, she didn't encourage her to _learn by doing_.

"We'll bake them in the oven for 20 minutes." Piper slides the pan into the oven. "And then we'll have a delicious and healthy snack."

"Now can I have the Jell-O?"

"After the chips," Piper says with a stern yet gentle expression. "For now, how about showing me a few of your coloring books?"

"Ok." She runs back into the living room, digging through a wicker basket filled with Crayons and coloring books.

"How's it going?" I ask.

Piper watches her pull a few of them out. "Good so far, I think."

I close my laptop halfway. "What did Morningside Nannies tell you about us?"

She returns her attention to me. "What do you mean?"

I shrug. "What information did they provide so that you'd be familiar with us before you arrived?"

"They gave me basic details about Harper—her name, age, pre-school, any allergies she has. There were a few notes about what activities she prefers like reading and coloring," Piper says. "Nothing earth shattering."

"Did they tell you anything about me?"

"Not really." She lifts her shoulders. "The form just listed your name, place of employment and contact information."

"So, nothing about Harper's past?"

Piper looks confused and maybe even a little suspicious. "Is there something you're trying to tell me?"

"No, sorry. I was just..." My phone buzzes, and I check the number noticing it's Kiera, my receptionist. "I have to take this."

I decide against filling Piper in on how Harper came into my life. There's no need to provide that level of detail since she's only filling in for six weeks. If something comes up that warrants me telling her about Nicky, I'll explain it then.

"I picked out a coloring book with dinosaurs," Harper calls.

"Be right there."

I excuse myself and go upstairs to take the call from work, and by the time I return downstairs, Piper and Harper are munching on kale chips.

"Taste these, mommy!" Harper exclaims. "They're even better than potato chips!"

I keep my eyes on Piper, who's sitting across the counter from Harper. "I find that hard to believe."

Harper hands me a chip. "Trust me."

"Mmm, they _are_ good." I cover my mouth and finish chewing. "What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?"

She smirks. "Too many to count."

A thrill runs through my body with the way she delivers the one, simple line.

"Can we make another batch?" Harper asks.

Piper returns her attention to her. "Yes, tomorrow after school. Would you mind helping me put these in a plastic bag?"

"Can I dump them?"

Piper searches two drawers before finding the Ziplocs. "Sure."

I sit on the stool next to my daughter. "There's a little bit of a wrench in the plans for next week."

"What is it?" Piper asks.

I help Harper carefully pour the kale into the baggie. "I have to go to Newport for a couple nights for work."

"Rhode Island?"

I nod. "We're developing a property and there's a construction delay. Attorneys and unions are involved."

Piper hands the bag to Harper and shows her how to zip it. "Sounds like a headache."

I don't like what I'm about to say, but I can't place all my trust in her just yet. "I, um…I'm not ready for you to be alone with Harper for two or three nights since we kind of just met today. No offense."

She doesn't seem to be insulted. "None taken."

"Would you be up for a trip to Newport?"

Her eyes shoot open. "Travel with you?"

"And Harper," I add.

She sniffs. "Right, of course."

I help Harper off the stool. "I'd get a suite with two bedrooms, so you'd have your own room."

"Let me check my schedule." She moves around the counter and pulls out her phone.

I like watching Piper walk; I think our strides would match perfectly.

"I'll ask my Ph.D. supervisor if I can reschedule our weekly check-in," she replies, typing a message on her phone. "As long as I'm back by Thursday and can have three or four hours to write each day, I can make it work."

"I can't promise three or four hours in a row, but you can work during Harper's nap or while she's watching a video." I move back to the kitchen table. "I'm usually done around five or six o'clock, so I can take her at that time while you work for the rest of the evening."

There's a gleam in her eye. "Ok."

"I'll ask my assistant to make the reservations." I sit back down. "We'll drive to Newport just after lunch on Sunday."

* * *

I spend the rest of the morning into the early afternoon continuing to observe Piper with Harper, and it's easy to see that it's an excellent match. She puts Harper down for a nap around one o'clock, giving us a moment to ourselves.

"You have a beautiful home." I watch her walk down the stairs.

"Thanks." Just like on the Subway, I admire the way she fills out a pair of jeans. "I want to redo the master bathroom, but that won't happen for a while."

"Why not?" She sticks her hands in her back pockets, and my eyes latch on to her breasts.

"Time," I reply. "Also money. I had the kitchen renovated before I moved in, and that almost broke the bank."

"Mmm." Piper looks around as if she's still trying to get her bearings. "How long does Harper typically nap?"

"About an hour." I set my pen down. "Any other questions for me while she's asleep?"

"Many." Piper fills a glass with water before joining me in the breakfast nook. I have a feeling her questions aren't just about Harper. "I haven't mapped out where her school is yet. Is it within walking distance?"

Or not.

I nod. "It's just three blocks north at Amsterdam and 94th."

She takes a sip. "Is she agreeable in the morning, or do you have to wrangle her to get ready for school?"

"She's pretty agreeable," I respond. "She wakes up around seven, and Hilda walks her to school at 8:15."

Piper takes an iPad out of her bag and begins taking notes. "What time would you like me to get here in the morning, and do you want me to make breakfast?"

"Between 7:15 and 7:30 would be ideal, and yes, I'd like you to make breakfast for her." I take a sip of tea. "She usually eats scrambled eggs and toast with a piece of fruit. If we're running late, she doesn't mind having a cup of yogurt. I tend to buy the high protein stuff with fruit at the bottom."

"I read in the agency's report that she doesn't have any food allergies, but she has a few aversions." She scrolls on her iPad. "Doesn't like mushrooms, cauliflower, sweet potatoes or raspberries."

"Sounds about right." I chuckle. "She doesn't care for crab or shrimp either, but she likes fish."

"Did Hilda make dinner, too?"

"Usually she cooks two or three times a week, and we eat leftovers," I answer. "Are you ok with that?"

"Yeah." She scribbles more notes on her iPad. "What time do you typically get home from work?"

"It depends," I begin. "The earliest is six and the latest is around eight, but I'd give you a head's up if I suspect I'll be home that late. And I think you know this already, but you're free to do whatever you want while Harper is in school."

Piper grins. "That's the main reason I took the job."

She strikes me as someone who values efficiency, which makes sense considering how many things she must juggle in a day. I'm sure her resume didn't cover half of what she does on any given day.

"What time does Harper go to sleep at night?"

"I read to her in bed at eight or so, and she falls asleep in about 15 to 20 minutes."

Piper finishes writing notes, and then looks up from her computer. "Anything else I should know?"

"The more physical activity you can do with her the better," I reply. "And if you can play games that stimulate learning, that would be great. She's just starting to read, so working with her on that would be helpful."

"No problem." She takes the last sip of water. "How close is the nearest park?"

"Central Park is two blocks east, but Harper loves going to the playground at Sol Bloom. There's also the West Side Community Garden where we have a small plot."

She raises her eyebrows. "A garden?"

I nod. "We haven't done anything with it since Hilda's pregnancy, but if you have a green thumb, I'm sure Harper would enjoy helping out."

"I'd love to." Her eyes light up, and once again, I'm drawn to their brightness. "Fall is just around the corner, so we could plant some broccoli, Brussels sprouts and beans."

"The three B's?" I chuckle.

She smiles. "I'll throw some cabbage in there just to keep it interesting."

We stare at each other for a moment, and I feel totally comfortable with Piper like I've known her for months if not years. I'm also physically attracted to her, but I do my best to keep my gawking to a minimum.

"So, second year Ph.D. student?" I ask, changing the topic when I start thinking about how perfect her fingers are.

"In child psychology," she responds. "This year is way more manageable than last."

"What happened last year?" I stand and hold my mug out. "Would you like some tea?"

"Sure, thank you." She tucks her iPad into her bag. "I taught an undergrad class both semesters and TA'd a graduate school class, plus I had an internship in the mental health center at St. Clare's. It was brutal."

"Was that in addition to researching and writing?" I ask from the kitchen.

"Yes," she says. "I was putting in about 60 hours a week."

I rip open two packets of tea. "Sounds familiar."

"This summer, I spent three days a week doing research at the Institute of Child Development and two days at a children's group clinic, which is where I was headed when we rode the Subway together."

That piques my interest, so I take a chance. "Had you noticed me on the Subway?"

"I saw you."

I wish I was in a position to see her expression, but my back is turned as I finish making the tea. A part of me is glad I'm not in the same room as her so she can't see the blush crawling up my neck.

"I'm surprised," I say. "Your head was always buried in the newspaper."

"There's this thing called peripheral vision." I wonder if she's smirking. "I didn't need to stare to know you were there."

My lips twist upwards as I return to the table. "Could've fooled me."

She takes the proffered mug. "Anyway, here we are."

"Here we are." I sip the highly fragranced tea. "I'm glad we met."

"Me, too." She issues a soft smile. "The only thing Morningside Nannies told me about you was that you work full-time at a place called Tannehill's, and you're a single mother."

"I'm a principle partner at Tannehill's."

She blows on the hot tea. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"We own a chain of breweries, historic hotels, and theater pubs across the Northeast."

"Oh, right," she says. "I stayed at the one in Albany for a wedding."

"I helped build that one," I respond. "Not with my own two hands, of course. Along with Brian Tannehill, I'm the 'pitch person' when we bid on new projects. I also handle the construction permits & licensing and work with the spatial designers."

"Sounds like a lot of work for one person." She pads into the kitchen. "Do you do anything with the breweries?"

I let out a light laugh. "Other than drink the beer? No."

"I remember the beer being good." She returns with the bag of kale chips, offering them to me. "I think there was a small movie theater in the one in Albany."

"We have six properties right now, and all but two have theaters. We mostly show classic movies a couple times a day, but the general manager has control over that." I pop a chip into my mouth. "These really are good."

"Thanks." She returns to her chair, and I'm drawn to her lithe body again as she tucks one leg under the other.

"We buy old banks and schools that have been unoccupied for years, and then reimagine them as breweries and inns."

"It's a cool concept," Piper replies. "And reduces our carbon footprint."

"It does." I smile. "Our latest property is in Newport, and it's been hell trying to get all the permits before construction begins. They were supposed to have started two weeks ago, but there are some legal hassles that I have to sort out in person."

She munches on another chip. "Do you have a legal background?"

"God, no—just what I've learned on the job." I shake my hair over my shoulders. "I don't care how much money lawyers make. In my experience they're cold-hearted assholes."

"Agreed." She chuckles. "My ex-boyfriend's dad is an attorney, and he fits the bill perfectly."

"_Ex_-boyfriend?" I dip my tea bag further into the steaming water.

"We broke up a little over a year ago," she offers. "I don't have time to commit to a relationship while getting my Ph.D."

"Tell me about it—having a full-time job and being a single mother leaves zero time for a personal life," I reply.

Although her head is bowed as she stares at the bag of kale chips, her eyes latch on to mine. I get a sense of mutual understanding—like she appreciates that we're in similar positions in life—I certainly do.

"It would have to be a relationship of convenience for it to work," Piper states. "Anyway, I'm not actively looking."

I try hiding my smirk with my mug. "A sort of _bump into them sideways_ sort of thing?"

Her lips stretch up. "Yeah."

"Mommy?" a groggy voice calls from the top of the stairwell.

"Down here, kiddo."

Piper walks in that direction. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good." Harper rubs her eyes.

"Want some apple juice?" she asks.

She nods.

They spend the next hour coloring, solving a 50-piece puzzle and practicing reading, and I'm as content as I possibly could be with the new nanny.

Trouble is, I'm also intrigued. Is it wrong that I find her attractive? If not wrong, then _creepy_? My attraction to Piper began on the Subway before I knew she'd be Harper's temporary nanny—it's not like I can banish thoughts of her with the flick of a switch. It's going to take me a while to sort this out.

* * *

Author's Note: Don't get accustomed to these long chapters! This was a "getting to know the basics about you" scene that took 12 pages to convey, so it was more of a set the stage chapter than anything else. Tannehill's is based on McMenamin's in the Pacific Northwest. If you're ever out in my neck of the woods and want to stay at a super cool hotel, check them out!


	3. Chapter 3

On Sunday we drive the three and a half hours to Newport, chatting along the way. Piper packed a bag of healthy snacks for Harper, and I loaded the iPad with videos to keep her occupied. We play "I spy" with her for a solid 30 minutes, and Harper seems to already be enjoying the trip. She dozes off about two hours in, and I take that time to ask Piper more about her life.

"No trouble rescheduling the check-in with your supervisor?" I ask.

She pops open a can of sparkling water. "No. In fact, it was more convenient for her to meet on Friday anyway."

"What's the title of your dissertation?"

"The Relationship between Chronic Health Conditions and Health Literacy, Resiliency and Self-Advocacy in Youth," she replies.

"That's a mouthful," I chuckle.

"I know. I thought I'd need to spend more time in a medical setting, but that's not turning out to be the case."

I set the cruise control to 65. "Do you _want_ to work in hospitals?"

"When I was an undergrad, I thought that's what I wanted," she responds after a sip. "But the more time I spend in schools, group clinics and private practices, the more I lean away from wanting to be in a hospital."

"I've never liked hospitals," I admit.

She swivels her head. "Bad experience?"

"You could say that." I think about leaving it there, but Piper's expression is so open and curious that I choose to elaborate. "The last time I was in one, my best friend died."

Her expression sobers as she touches my leg. "I'm so sorry."

My eyes are immediately drawn to her fingers on my thigh, and while this shouldn't be a physically stimulating moment, somehow it is.

She removes her hand. "Did it happen suddenly?"

I sigh. "Nicky was a drug addict," I'm still angry with her for taking her addiction past the point of no return. "She'd been in and out of rehab her entire adult life and one night she went too far."

Piper listens intently as she twists her body towards me. The way her body jerks seems like she forgot that she's restrained by a seatbelt. She tugs on the long strap, giving her more room to face me.

"Nicky used a dirty needle and contracted _bacterial endocarditis." _I pronounce those words with venom like I've humanized the evil condition that took my friend's life. "The doctor tried to perform open heart surgery, but she died before..." I stop there, feeling a familiar sting in my eyes. It doesn't matter how much time has passed—I still get emotional when I talk about Nicky's death.

"That sounds like a nightmare."

I take my eyes off the highway and blink at her. "Nicky was Harper's mom."

Piper's breath hitches. "Oh. Wow. I had no idea."

I return my attention to the road and blink away tears before they have a chance to fall. "I don't know why I'm telling you this." I choke out a weak laugh.

She places a hand on my arm. "Have you talked to anyone about your loss?"

"I've told a couple of people." I shrug. "Not many."

She doesn't respond, but her appearance leads me to believe that's not _really_ what she's asking.

I try again. "You mean like a therapist?"

She nods.

"I hadn't really considered professional help," I say. "To be honest, everything happened so quickly when Nicky died that I hardly had time to wrap my head around how I was going to work full-time and raise Harper. I never had trouble remembering to feed Harper, but I forgot to eat countless times."

"Your world was turned upside down."

"It was." I never realized how_ good_ it would feel to have someone acknowledge that. "Never in a million years did I imagine being in this predicament." I quickly correct myself, "I shouldn't say _predicament_—I wouldn't change being Harper's mom for anything."

Her lips tug upwards just a bit.

"It just happened so quickly, you know?" I repeat—like the _timing_ of Nicky's death is what affected me most. "I wish Nicky would've had the chance to raise her daughter."

Piper has a look of pure sincerity on her face. "That's a very selfless thing to say—to want."

"Are we almost there?" Harper interrupts, waking from her slumber.

I watch her rub her eyes through the rearview mirror. "Almost, kiddo."

"I'm hungry."

Piper gives me a gentle smile. "Although the majority of my work centers around children, I have experience working with adults as well…If you ever want to talk."

"Thank you."

She digs through a bag on the floor between her feet and pulls out a baggie of carrots for Harper.

Is Piper interested in a patient/counselor relationship and nothing more? I _do_ appreciate her offer to listen and firmly believe she has enough professional experience to help me, but I guess I was hoping for more of a natural conversation between friends…or perhaps eventually _more than friends_. It was a ridiculous wish anyway, considering we're _not_ friends after having only really known each other for a grand total of five days.

We play a couple more car games on the rest of the drive, and Piper doesn't ask more questions about my revelation. She's probably an expert at reading situations and quickly determined that our discussion should remain private and not brought up in front of Harper. Whether that's the case or not, I don't like talking about Nicky's darkest moments while Harper's in the room, so I appreciate Piper's restraint.

* * *

We arrive at Gurney's Resort in Newport, which is on the tip of a peninsula surrounded by water. It's a stunning property with a luxury spa, a five-star restaurant, and a swanky cocktail lounge. While I check-in, Piper takes Harper to look at the sailboats in the marina. I've only taken Harper to hotels on two other occasions, but they were not nearly as fancy as Gurney's.

I watch my daughter run from one side of the dock to the other with Piper not far behind. When she needs to explain something to Harper, she lowers herself to the ground, bending at the knees until they're at eye level. I recognize it as a move that puts them on equal footing rather than having the adult be the power figure, towering over the child.

The clerk hands me a small envelope with the room keys. "You should be all set, Ms. Vause. Please let us know if there's anything you need during your stay."

"Thank you."

We take the elevator to the top floor, and Harper jets into the living room of our suite and twirls around with her arms spread out.

"Mommy, why don't we have a house like this?" She sniffs the air. "It smells way better than our house, too."

Piper chuckles.

"Because this is a hotel and we live in a house."

"A boring house," she complains, running into one of the bedrooms. "Is this my room?"

I follow her inside the smaller room with a double bed. "This is Piper's room. You and I get to share the room with a king-sized bed."

She takes off across the living room to the other bedroom. "Whoa, this is awesome!"

We spend the next half-hour unpacking and getting situated, and then I check my e-mail from a perch next to the large window in the living room.

I read the last e-mail in my inbox. "Looks like I have to meet our attorney for dinner at six."

Piper turns to Harper. "What do you say you and I go explore Newport while your mom is having dinner?"

"Can we go see the boats again?"

"You bet." Piper picks up the leather-bound hotel binder and flips through it. "Did you know there's a kid's club?"

"What's that?" Harper asks.

She reads an excerpt from the binder, "Our kids club allows parents to enjoy some R&R while children ages 4-12 enjoy a day of fun activities. Open daily from 9 am until 4 pm." She looks up. "They even have someone called the _Director of Fun_."

"I want that job," I reply.

She smiles. "Should we go check it out on our way down to the marina?"

Harper nods.

"I'm going to do a little more work, and then head down to dinner." I rifle through my bag and pull out a blue file folder. "You're ok with her?"

"Yeah." She smiles. "Have fun."

* * *

The business dinner with our legal counsel and his paralegal goes as well as to be expected, and by the end of the main course, I feel prepared to meet with the union representatives and opposing counsel tomorrow. I opt out of having dessert in favor of spending time with Harper before she goes to bed.

The nights are getting colder and the breeze off the ocean causes me to shiver as I walk back to the hotel. Had I known the restaurant was half a mile from the resort, I would've walked there instead of taking a taxi and would've realized as soon as I stepped outside that I needed my leather jacket when the sun went down.

As I make my way back, I reflect on my conversation with Piper in the car. I don't know if her clinical psychologist side kicked in as soon as I mentioned Nicky's death and being Harper's birth mother or if her reaction is the same as it would be if she were a friend. It felt good to admit out loud how Nicky's passing affected me, and even from that brief conversation, I think I'd benefit from talking about it more. Maybe I need a grief counselor, though I don't know when I'd find time to meet with her.

I arrive at the resort happy to be out of the nippy air and head to our room. As I step inside, I see Harper sitting next to Piper on the sofa practicing her reading.

"Cat's an easy one," Harper says.

Piper points to something in the book. "Try this one."

"Stop," she replies.

"And this one?"

"Fence?"

"Yes! Good job."

I close the door and they both whip their heads around.

"Mommy!" Harper dashes over and hugs my leg.

"Hi! Did you have a good evening?"

She grins. "I had a _great_ evening."

I ruffle her hair. "That a girl."

Piper props her arm on the back of the sofa and rests her head in her hand. "How was dinner?"

"Fine." I toss my purse onto the side table. "I feel more confident walking into my meeting tomorrow."

"Good."

I sit in the armchair across from her, and Harper crawls onto my lap. "Tell me what you did while I was away."

"We saw all the sailboats in the marina," she begins. "And we fed the ducks. They're so cute!"

"What did you feed them?"

"Piper bought a bag of popcorn and we gave them what we didn't want," she answers.

Piper grins, allowing her to continue. She seems to have a different grin or smile for every occasion, and I want to capture each one.

"Oh, and I saw the lighthouse that I get to go in tomorrow!" she says with the clap of her hands.

"You get to go inside?"

Harper turns to Piper as if wanting her to reply.

"We talked to the director of fun and he told us that on Tuesdays, he reads the children a book about the history of the lighthouse, and afterwards, they get to tour it," Piper explains.

"Yeah, and there are pirates."

"I'm sure there were back in the day," I say. "Sounds like fun."

"It will be," Harper replies confidently.

"What did you have for dinner?"

"Tacos."

"There are three or four food carts in the marina," Piper chimes in. "She wanted chicken tacos."

"Sounds yummy." I brush her bangs back with my fingers. "Was Piper helping you with your reading when I walked in?"

"Yep. I read 15 words."

"If we keep going, maybe you'll get to 20," Piper suggests.

"Ok." Harper returns to the spot next to Piper. "I think we were on page seven."

"I'm going to change clothes." I walk into the bedroom pleased as ever about my daughter's evening and the woman who helped her make it _great_.

* * *

Harper doesn't complain when I tell her it's bedtime, and I only read four pages of _Maddi's Fridge_ before she falls asleep. I carefully crawl out of bed, tuck her in, and then stand at the entryway and smile at how small she is in the king-sized bed. I shut the door behind me as I enter the living room.

Piper stretches, and I'm drawn once again to her long, fit body. "I'm either going to go down to the lounge for a nightcap or raid the mini-bar."

"Since I can't leave my daughter alone in the room, I vote for the mini-bar." An apology hangs on my lips at my assumption that Piper wanted me to join her, but I don't let it out. If she wants to be alone, she'll head down to the bar, and I'll receive the message loud and clear. If she opts for the mini-bar, I'll know she'd rather be with me.

"Let's see what they have in here." She bends down, opening the door to the small refrigerator. "Are you into tequila or vodka?"

A smile touches my lips that she's choosing to stay. "Both." I sit on the sofa where Harper sat earlier this evening.

She lifts a tiny bottle of Woodford Reserve. "There's also this."

"Bourbon it is." I grin.

"I'm curious." Piper sets two rocks glasses on the counter and fills them with ice. "When did you start referring to Harper as your daughter?"

Her question takes me by surprise. Is she reverting to future Dr. Chapman? Is that what this is all about—shrinking me? Or is she just making conversation?

"It took me a while," I reply tentatively. "Nicky had all the adoption paperwork drawn up when she relapsed a few months after Harper was born." I might be revealing too much, but words keep spewing out of my mouth like they _need_ to surface. "After Nicky died, I met with an adoption counselor as part of the legal process, and she told me that referring to Harper as 'my daughter' would make it feel real."

"That's true." She pours the Bourbon into one glass and fills the other with tequila. "How long did it take you to do it consistently?"

"Thanks." I take the glass from her, and she sits next to me on the sofa. "About a year. Maybe a little longer."

"Does it feel more comfortable now?"

"Yeah." I take a sip of the brown liquid, and it burns going down my throat. "I don't even hesitate to call her my daughter now that she's almost five."

"And you believe that she is?" Piper takes a sip of her tequila and makes a face at its potency, causing me to smile.

"I do. And I know that's what Nicky would want."

She tucks her legs under her and stretches an arm across the back of the sofa. "Tell me about her...about Nicky."

"We went to high school together, and then community college."

She nods.

"We were inseparable," I reply with fondness. "She was this crass, hilarious, wild-haired woman born with a silver spoon, but she _loathed_ her parents. If there's a word beyond hate, that's how Nicky felt." I take another sip and stare into the distance. "She resented them until the day she died."

"It must've been difficult to get the adoption to go through when she still had living kin," Piper says.

I shrug. "I have no idea what was involved with the legal proceedings, but she was adamant about her parents not raising Harper."

"Mmm." Piper takes another sip of tequila. "What about the father?"

"Nicky was a straight up dyke," I laugh. "She slept with a guy to score drugs."

Piper juts her head back and her brows shoot up.

"You should probably work on a more neutral expression when you're working with clients," I say with a grin around another drink of Bourbon.

"It's not the first time I've gotten that advice," she confesses. "Nicky was _gay_?"

"Yes." I nod. "As far as I know, Harper's father was the only guy she ever slept with." I glance at my lap, saddened by the thought of Nicky's colossal mistake. "What are the odds?"

"Extremely low," Piper responds. "Did she tell you if she had mixed feelings about keeping the baby?"

"Nicky told me everything." I reflect on the highly personal things she shared with me over the years. "And _of course_ she had mixed feelings about keeping it. She thought if she carried a baby, it would ultimately keep her clean."

"Did it keep her clean?" she asks.

"No." I make a circular motion with my glass and focus on way the amber liquid swirls around like a cyclone. "She stayed away from alcohol and drugs during the pregnancy and for a few months after, but then…" I trail off, sorrow filling my heart.

* * *

"_Can you believe this beautiful thing came out of my vagina?" Nicky rocks a cooing Harper in her arms. _

_I chuckle, tucking the blanket more fully under the baby's tiny feet. "That's a disgusting way to put it."_

_She looks up from her spot in the rocking chair that is kind of just plopped in the middle of the living room of our now disheveled apartment. "Yet another reason to love pussy."_

"_You've got a twisted mind." I make my way into the kitchen to heat a bottle. _

_Although Nicky tried nursing, it never worked, so after a month, she gave up and opted for formula._

"_I have to tell you, getting clean for this little bundle of joy was the best move I ever made."_

_I'm thrilled to hear those words, but something is gnawing at my gut. "You were out pretty late last night."_

"_If you consider eleven o'clock late, yeah I was," she replies from the other room. "It was good to see the old gang again. I missed them."_

_I dab a bit of formula on my wrist to check if it's warm enough. "Are you still going to NA meetings?"_

"_I'm on maternity leave," she quips. "I'll go back in a couple weeks."_

_I return with the bottle and hand it to Nicky. "I can watch Harper if you want to hit a meeting tonight."_

"_I've been sober for nine fucking months." She glares at me. "I've got this, Vause. Don't worry so much."_

_I give her a tight-lipped smile. I want to believe her—I really do, but then she adds, "Oh, Chelsea and Katherine are going to drop by tonight."_

_My body stiffens and I clench my jaw. Chelsea and Katherine are two of Nicky's unemployed, trust fund friends who aren't sober. One of them, Katherine I think, went to meetings with Nicky last year, but she quit going after attending only two or three. Chelsea has never even attempted to get sober as far as I know. _

"_What are you guys doing tonight?" I sit across from her, trying to keep my expression neutral._

"_Chill, maybe order a pizza…why?"_

_I shrug. "Just wondering."_

"_You're welcome to join in." Nicky glances at her daughter. "They aren't coming over until after this one goes to sleep."_

_I don't want to babysit Nicky or tell her who she should and shouldn't hang out with, but I also know that if others around her are smoking out or doing lines of Coke, it would be very difficult for Nicky not to participate. I've curbed my drinking considerably since Nicky announced her pregnancy and only toke up when I've had a particularly bad day. I haven't smoked in front of her in nine months._

"_Yeah, maybe."_

"_My arms are hurting." Nicky stands with the baby. "You mind taking over?"_

_I reach for a swaddled Harper, ensuring that the bottle never leaves her tiny mouth._

_"Look at you." She pats me on the back. "You're a natural, Vause."_

* * *

"I can't imagine what that was like for you." Piper reaches for my hand and holds it for a few seconds while staring at me. It's such a fucking cliché, but I could get lost in her blue eyes.

"It's the closest to Hell I can ever imagine," I admit.

She releases my hand. "Harper is lucky to have you as her mom."

I let out a small huff. "You think so?"

"Very much."

I'm honored that someone like Piper considers me a good mother. "Thanks."

She stands and curves her back until the tendons pop. "I should probably get some writing done before going to bed."

"Yeah." I down the rest of the Bourbon. "I have to be at the construction site by seven tomorrow."

As she walks to her room, she twists her neck around, hand on the doorframe. "By the way, I'm not trying to shrink you if that's what you're thinking." She shrugs. "It just seemed like you were open to sharing."

Her sentiment fills me with warmth. "Thank you."

She issues a tender smile, and then enters her room, shutting the door behind her.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: **This chapter is rated M for Mature**. It's also the longest chapter I've posted so far.

* * *

I'm out of the hotel the next morning before Harper or Piper are even awake. It's a big day, and I want to get a head start. The old school that we purchased in Newport is in excellent condition, so the construction will only be a remodel with little demolition. The former classrooms will be turned into hotel rooms, so the big work there is installing bathrooms and replacing flooring and windows. Still, it's a huge project that'll take nine months to a year to finish, but it'll be worth it in the end.

The morning meeting with the union representatives and our attorney lasts well into lunch and I find myself with a splitting headache by the time my chicken salad arrives. If we don't reach an agreement, the project will be delayed until we can find a non-unionized construction manager and workers. In my experience, it's damn near impossible to put together a rag-tag team like that and have the project go as planned.

I spend the second half of the day Skyping with Brian Tannehill and our CFO, trying to find creative ways to negotiate one last time. The attorney wants to go for the jugular, but I want to make one more attempt at a compromise before we start discussions about dissolving the labor agreement. We decide to meet with the union reps again the following morning in hopes of a mutually acceptable resolution.

I'd been so focused on work all day that I almost forgot who I'm going "home" to. Of course I always love coming home to my daughter, but the thought of seeing Piper also excites me. I'm glad she mentioned that she wasn't listening to my story about Nicky from a clinical perspective. I'll graciously accept a kind ear.

At half past five, I walk into an empty hotel room and look around. "Hello? Anybody here?"

I open the curtains and stare at the rocky shoreline and large swimming pool complete with a waterfall at the deep end. It really is a magnificent resort that's perfectly situated on the water. As I'm about to turn around, I spot Harper in the pool hitting a beach ball to Piper. I take a step closer to the window and squint. Piper is wearing a green and white patterned bikini, and when she jumps to catch the ball, I can see her skimpy bikini bottom. Her hair is wet and slicked back and she's laughing along with Harper. Not that I needed any more validation, but Piper has a killer body and I find myself wanting to touch it—all of it.

I pace in the room for a few minutes, deciding if I want to head down the pool and join them. I have absolutely no idea if Piper is into women, but perhaps this would be a good test. While my body is not as fit as Piper's, I'll admit it's still nice. I workout when I get the chance and do my best to eat right. I haven't worn a bikini since early summer, so I hope I look half as good as Piper.

I make my way down to the pool with a black maxi cover-up and flip flops. "Looks like you two are having fun."

"Mommy!" Harper swims to the side as best as she can (she took swimming lessons the last two summers).

I watch her kick to the edge of the pool, and then I quickly shift my focus to Piper as I remove my bathing suit coverup. She wipes the dripping water off her face and stares at me, mouth slightly agape. Her eyes trail down my body, and her gaze is certainly not lost on me. _Huh_.

"Are you coming swimming, too?" Harper enquires.

"I sure am." I kick off my flip flops and sit on the lip of the pool, dangling my feet in the water. "Brrr!"

"It's not that cold," Harper says. "You'll get used to it."

Piper still hasn't spoken, and I wonder if I've rendered her speechless with my red bikini that leaves little to the imagination.

"Have you been practicing your strokes?"

"We've been playing volleyball," Harper replies. "I don't want to practice swimming."

"But you're so good at it," I say. "Will you please show Piper how well you swim?"

Finally, Piper tears her eyes off me. "Can you do the breast stroke?"

Harper nods, and then swims until she reaches Piper.

"You really _are_ good!" Piper holds her, and I hate to admit I'm jealous of my daughter.

I jump into the pool and wipe my hair back when I surface. "It's freezing!"

"Can I swim to you now?" She takes off and swims the five feet before I can answer.

"Good job!" I hold her up just as Piper did.

"I'm going to get the beach ball." She scurries up the steps.

"Don't run," I warn, turning my attention to Piper. "Looks like you're enjoying the water."

"I am." She smiles and takes a few steps closer. "But more importantly, Harper is."

"I'm glad." I take a step in her direction and now we're only about a foot apart. "Are you a runner?"

She rings out her hair. "Why do you ask?"

My eyes roam over her breasts. "Your body." I quickly adjust. "I mean, you have an athletic build."

That causes her to chuckle, and I get the sense she knows _exactly_ what I meant. "I run and practice yoga." She lowers her body into the water and skims her arms along the surface. "What about you?"

"I exercise when I can; mostly I just try to eat healthy."

"Maybe we could go for a run in the park sometime."

"I have a feeling you'd kick my ass," I chuckle.

"If I get to watch you from behind, I might let you win," she says in a low voice.

"I got the ball!" Harper calls, jumping back into the pool.

I'm left standing there with my mouth hanging open and mind blown as Piper and Harper continue playing like nothing ever happened.

We spend another 20 minutes in the pool until the sun is about to set and the breeze picks up. While I try to concentrate on my daughter's swimming skills or how she hits the beach ball high into the air, I can't tear my eyes away from Piper. Perhaps it's just wishful thinking, but I think she's struggling right along with me. That isn't to say we aren't giving Harper our attention—we are, but it appears we're both good at multi-tasking.

Harper whines when I tell her it's time for dinner, and I know she's probably exhausted.

"We can order room service," I offer, drying my hair.

"What's that?" she pouts, wrapping a towel around her small body.

I wrap one around my waist. "It's when they bring dinner to our room and we can eat it on the sofa or in bed."

"We can eat in bed?" That seems to excite her.

I nod. "Doesn't that sound like fun?"

"Yeah," she replies.

We head back to the room, and I keep my eyes trained on the elevator doors as Piper stands next to me with the same towel situation as mine. Trouble is, the doors are mirrored, so I'm still cursed (or blessed) at having to look at her body. Of course I don't have to _stare_ at Piper's figure, but it's like I don't have control over where my eyes focus.

"I'll give her a quick bath, and then take a shower," I say. "While I'm in there, feel free to order room service for all of us." I think twice about my request. "Unless you want to have dinner on your own. I can handle Harper solo tonight."

"I'd enjoy eating together."

I step out of the elevator with a wide grin.

* * *

By the time Harper bathes and I take a shower, the room service has arrived.

"What did you order?"

Piper tips the server and then closes the door. "Crab cakes, an avocado salad and clam chowder for us." She lifts a silver cloche. "And a cheese pizza for Harper."

She tip-toes and glances under the lid. "I get a pizza all to myself?"

"Yes, but you have to eat the fruit salad and drink the milk, too."

She looks up at me with her big, brown eyes. "You said we could eat in bed."

"I did say that." I run a hand down her damp head. "Just this once."

She squeals with delight, runs into our room and jumps onto the bed.

I take the tray with her pizza, fruit and milk to her. "Please try not to spill anything."

"Where's Piper?"

I place a napkin on her lap. "She's probably more comfortable eating in the living room."

"I want all of us to eat in bed together."

I don't know if this is the best idea, but how can I say no to my daughter? "You can ask her if you want."

"Piper, will you come eat with us?" Harper shouts right into my ear.

She appears around the corner wearing a hotel robe and puffy socks. "I don't know if your mommy wants me in her bed."

_You have no idea how badly I want you in my bed_.

"I don't mind," I say instead. "Besides, aren't we sharing dinner?"

She nods.

"Can we watch a video?" Harper asks.

"How much screen time have you had today?"

"Zero." She pops a piece of cantaloupe into her mouth.

I look to Piper for affirmation and when she nods, I respond, "Yes, but only one show."

Piper grabs the television remote and climbs into the other side of the bed. "They have the Cartoon Network."

The TV comes on and Harper has opinions about what she wants to watch. "I'm over _Peppa the Pig_," she says.

"Since when?" I ask.

"I don't know." She shrugs. "It's a show for little kids. I'm a big girl."

Piper turns the channel. "What about this one?"

Harper shakes her head, and she changes the channel again.

"Ooooh, _Summer Camp Island_!" Harper relays what the show is about as Piper and I set up a tray of our food on the bed.

Piper is in the middle closest to Harper and I'm on the opposite side. We maneuver around each other to take a bite of chowder or salad without needing to exchange words. She butters a roll, putting half on the side for me and the other half on her plate. It feels perfectly domestic, and I love it—I _crave_ it.

The last time I lounged in bed with a woman was before Harper was born when I was in a relationship with Sylvie. Despite not being romantically involved with Piper, this feels more natural. Exhilaration courses through my veins as I enjoy the intimacy of this moment. There's nothing sexual about it, but it's surprisingly satisfying.

"The crab cakes were delicious." I wipe my mouth with a starched napkin.

"I wonder how they made the sauce?" Piper dips the tip of her butter knife into the white sauce. "Sweet relish?"

I do the same. "Or pickled peppers?"

"I don't know." She looks over to Harper, who has dozed off with the last slice of pizza in hand. "Look."

I smile. "I figured she'd be exhausted and fall asleep in no time."

While Piper removes the pizza from her hand and stacks the plates on a tray, I get out of bed and remove the napkin from Harper's lap and put the tray on a side table. I also remove our dinner from the bed, and Piper gently lowers Harper until she's in a horizontal position. I pull the sheets over her small, slumbering body and give her a kiss on the nose.

"I'm not going to wake her up to make her brush her teeth," I whisper, turning off the lamp on her side of the bed.

"I don't think she'll get cavities if she misses one night."

Piper returns to the same position in bed, legs crossed at the ankles over the sheets. She makes no attempt to move, so I return to the spot next to her, mirroring her position.

She reaches across my body to grab the remote control from the end table. As she stretches, there's a small gap in her robe, revealing the arc of her breast. I try to look away, but I can't. I gnaw on the inside of my lower lip as my pulse quickens. My body is charged with unmistakable anticipation as my skin prickles and fingers twitch. I ball my hand into a fist to stop the thrumming feeling.

Piper, for her part, seems wholly unaffected. She scrolls through the television channels as if she's in her own bed on any given night. "As exciting as _Summer Camp Island_ is, maybe we can find something else to watch."

The room is lit only by the lamp next to me and the soft, blue glow of the television. Heat radiates off my body and I wonder if there's some kind of scientific device that could physically display the air around me like a neon cloud with colors of orange and red—colors of warmth and danger.

"_Pretty Woman_?" she asks, lowering the volume.

"Pass."

"_America's Got Talent_? _The Matrix_? _Fresh Prince_?"

I shake my head as I try to control my breathing. I could stop this right now—it'd be easy. All I'd have to do is leave the bed with any old excuse like brushing my teeth, using the bathroom, sending one more work e-mail. I could also ask Piper to leave, explaining that I've got a big day tomorrow and need to get some sleep. But I don't. I sit there virtually paralyzed by the proximity of the woman next to me.

"We could watch porn."

My eyes dart to her.

She gives me a playful smile. "I'm kidding."

If my daughter wasn't in the bed with us, I would take this down an X-Rated path, but I restrain myself, halfway glad that Harper is sleeping soundly four feet away.

"_The Wedding Singer_?" There's enthusiasm in her tone.

"Not my favorite, but it'll do." It's not like I'm going to be able to concentrate on a movie anyway.

"What's your favorite movie?" She hands me the remote control, and I set it back on the end table, thankful to have something to occupy my hand if only for a few seconds.

"That's a loaded question," I reply. "It depends on my mood or the genre."

"Ok then, _some_ of your favorites," she revises.

"_Reservoir Dogs, Singing in the Rain, Rocky_…"

"_Rocky_?" She lets out a quiet snort. "That's certainly a variety."

"What about you?"

"If I'm thinking about films across the board, I'd go with _Schindler's List, The Wizard of Oz _and maybe_ The Sound of Music_."

"Mmm, I loved that movie as a kid," I reply. "It might've just been that I had a crush on Julie Andrews."

"She was cute."

_Interesting_…

"She's no Angelina Jolie," I lob.

"They're not even in the same category," Piper replies. "Julie Andrews was adorable, but Angelina Jolie is hot."

"I'd take Diane Kruger over all of them."

She turns to me with the hint of a grin. "I've been told I resemble her."

"Well, would you look at that?" I smirk. "You do."

If there was any question about my attraction to her, Piper mustn't have any now. We remain silent, both of our attention back on the screen. My mouth is dry, and I think for a second about getting a glass of water. That would serve two purposes: quenching my thirst and taking me out of a dangerous situation.

Her eyes are trained on the TV. "Did you ever do this with Hilda?"

"Watch movies with her in bed?" I ask through a laugh at such a preposterous thought. "No."

In a completely unexpected move, Piper slides her fingers down the bed until they dance on my palm, and then her neck swivels and she blinks at me. I sit motionless for a few seconds, holding her gaze and squeezing her hand without releasing it. The thrilling tension of anticipation unsettles my stomach and I feel like I'm free-falling from 10,000 feet above ground. She tucks herself against my side, and I toss an arm over her shoulders, pulling her closer. This isn't the scene of two friends enjoying time together; it's electrically charged—_sexually_ charged.

"If Harper wakes up…" I begin, my mouth betraying my body.

"We'd have some explaining to do?" Piper's countenance is all calmness, and I wonder how that could possibly be. Every word I've spoken is laced with nerves and trepidation, but not Piper—hers are easy and light.

"Yeah," I mutter and even the one syllable comes out rough like sandpaper.

Piper removes herself from under my arm and sits up fully, back ramrod straight. "I should probably go to my room." It comes out with far less conviction that she probably intended.

"I don't want that," I admit barely above a whisper.

A gleam flickers in her eye. "Come with me."

I hadn't thought of that possibility.

Silently, I crawl out of bed, make sure Harper is sound asleep, and follow Piper into the living room. She stops in the middle of the room behind the beige arm chair and turns to me. The view from the sixth floor is spectacular with the moon casting a glow onto the water, but I don't want to focus on that right now. I pick up one of her hands, and she picks up the other. Her hands aren't clammy, and they don't twitch in mine, and again, I'm surprised at her poise in the face of such a possible crucial situation.

I step so close that our breasts are touching, and a _zing_ courses through my body. "Things are about to get complicated."

She cranes her neck and we're almost at eye level. I can smell her breath and for some odd reason it smells like honey rather than the chowder we ate for dinner. "I need this job."

I trail my fingertips up her left arm, hoping that if I keep moving, my nerves will subside. "I need a nanny."

"Where does that leave us?" she asks in a throaty voice.

"Exactly where we are."

Piper brings our joined hands between our chests, and I can feel her heart beating more rapidly than expected. I wonder if the pace matches my own. "What if we waited six weeks until Hilda is back?"

My hand that was tickling her arm journeys up until it lands on the back of her neck. It fits the slender curve like a glove. "Is that what you want?"

"It would make this far less complicated."

She's giving me an out. This is my chance to show some restraint—to back out because of some level of inappropriateness with Piper's role in my daughter's life.

I'm only fooling myself if I think I've got the willpower to walk away. The only thing that would serve is delaying the inevitable. I've wanted this since first laying eyes on Piper in the Subway and then hearing the cadence of her voice in the grocery store with some silly question about _cheese_ of all things.

I close the distance between us and take one more unsteady breath before softly pressing my lips to hers. Her mouth is warm and inviting. I didn't know how good of a kisser she'd be with such thin lips, but it turns out she's _amazing_. She angles her head, deepening the kiss, and a thrill shoots through my body, making my stomach do somersaults and the space between my legs throb.

She raises both hands up to cup my face, and the kiss goes from tender to steaming in a matter of seconds.

Ignoring the responsible conversation we _should_ have, I walk her backwards towards her room, my mouth never leaving hers, and am delighted that it doesn't break our kiss. She kicks the door shut, but it doesn't slam. I untie the belt on her robe, reaching for bare skin. I had no doubt it would be soft and warm, but I wasn't expecting it to feel ten thousand kinds of good.

When my right hand reaches her nipple, I stop, take a step back and stare at her. "You're so beautiful."

She closes the distance between us, one hand on my ass, the other reaching up my shirt. "Did you really think I didn't notice you on the Subway?"

Finally regaining my confidence, I grin against her mouth as I walk us towards the bed. "Yes."

"That would've been impossible." She sits and scoots back. "I had to force myself to keep my eyes buried in the newspaper."

I bend one knee between her legs and scoot up the bed with her, hands never leaving her body. The robe is splayed open, giving me a full view of Piper, and it's then when I realize she isn't wearing any underwear. No chance I'm not touching her there immediately.

She moans.

"Why didn't you say hello?" I ask, rubbing her center without making full contact with her clit.

"Mmm," she moans again. "I was going to work my way up to that."

I rip off my t-shirt, breasts dangling close to Piper's face. She wastes no time reaching up for one with her mouth. She sucks my nipple, forcing me to toss my head back and moan.

"Since we're making confessions," she begins. "I didn't need your help picking out cheeses at Zabar's."

I pull back, regretting my move instantly as she can no longer reach my breasts with her mouth. "What?"

"I saw you grocery shopping and recognized you as the woman from the Subway." She smirks. "I had to come up with some excuse to meet you, so I pretended not to know about cheese."

"No," I reply in a disbelieving tone. "Really?"

Piper nods, smirk turning into wily laughter. "I know more than any one person should know about cheese."

"You're crafty." I lean down to kiss her. "I appreciate that about a woman."

The talking portion of the evening is over. I insert a finger into her slit, rubbing it back and forth and gathering her wetness with every pass, spending a few seconds making little circles on her sensitive nub. Piper grabs my hand, showing me what she wants, and I didn't expect such boldness, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't turn me on. I finally acquiesce, inserting another finger and pressing harder on her clit. She turns her attention to my other breast, bathing it with the same affection while her free hand trickles down my stomach and into my shorts. I move up a little to give her better access while still maintaining the pressure on her clit. Her fingertip reaches mine, and it's my turn to moan, though it comes out more like a primal grunt. We work each other like that for a few minutes, and then I lean down to kiss her. Our tongues dual for position, and our nipples touch once again sending shivers throughout my body.

"I'm…I'm…" And that's it—she explodes into a powerful orgasm.

I concentrate on her face that contorts with pleasure.

"Oh my God," she pants. "Wow. That was unexpected." She rubs her thumb against my cheek.

As I'm about to collapse next to her, Piper drops one arm and hooks it around my thigh. She does the same with her other arm, and I get the sense she wants to finish me with her mouth. I scoot my knees further up until my pussy hangs over her mouth. She examines it for a moment, and then lifts her head off the pillow and sticks her tongue into my center. My head rolls back. She pulls me closer, inviting me to spread my legs until I'm sitting on her face and riding her. Her arms are still wrapped around my thighs, and her hands are splayed on the curve of my back as she eats me, moving her mouth up and down and her tongue in and out.

"Fuck, Piper!" I grab her hair with one hand and the headboard with the other and buck against her mouth until I feel an orgasm rip through me. I thrust against her three more times before I'm spent.

"Fuck," I repeat, rolling next to her.

She curls her body around me. "Turns out, we're good at sex."

I chuckle. "I never thought otherwise."

Piper wipes her mouth before leaning over and kissing me softly. I wrap my arms around her and bask in the glow of the most surprising sex in my life.

A few minutes later, I come back down to earth. "I should probably check on Harper—make sure she didn't hear us."

"I'm not the loud one," she protests. "If she heard anyone, it was you."

I kiss her shoulder with a chuckle before getting out of bed and putting on Piper's discarded robe. It smells like her—all cucumber and freshness. I unlock the bedroom door and pad through the living room and into my bedroom, happy to find Harper fast asleep in the same position as when we left. I smile at her, and then head back to Piper's room.

"Is this crazy?" I ask when I return, locking the door behind me.

She's splayed across the double bed, completely naked, and I'm already aroused again.

"Kind of." She shrugs. "Were you serious when you said you still need a nanny?"

"I wouldn't joke about that." I sit on the corner of the bed. "I can't work full-time and take care of Harper."

She rolls onto her side, and although she looks like a Playboy model in such a pose, I don't voice my observation. "Do you still want to keep me as Harper's nanny?"

"Of course I do." I smile. "But I don't think we should be affectionate in front of her."

She nods. "That would be confusing for her."

"Depending on where this goes, we can slowly start getting closer." I stretch out next to her. "See how she reacts."

She's silent for a moment, and just before I'm about to ask what she's thinking, Piper proceeds. "Harper shouldn't get to determine who you date," she says with slight hesitation, like she's not sure if this is the moment she should choose to talk about the matter. "If she doesn't like our closeness—if that's the direction we go with this—you have to remember she's the child and doesn't get to decide who you're in a relationship with."

I'm surprised at her forthrightness, though I probably shouldn't be. She's a fucking child psychologist, and that's probably not something she can turn off easily.

I pull back. "If my daughter doesn't like the person I'm dating, there's a 99 percent chance I'm not going to keep dating her."

She places a hand on my hip and blinks up at me but doesn't speak.

"I don't want you to be my psychologist—or Harper's." I don't fully mean that because I know her expertise could help me be a better mother, but I also don't want to be in bed with _Dr. Chapman_ giving me advice about parenting.

"I don't want that either," Piper replies. "But it doesn't change what I know to be good for children."

I sit up. "You're saying it would be _good_ for a child to basically 'be put in her place' if she doesn't like her mother's partner?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all." She pulls the sheets over her naked body as if _now_ is the time for modesty. "Too often parents put their own happiness aside because they're afraid it will upset their child," she begins. "Kids are resilient! If they know they're loved and if parents communicate effectively with them, they tend to be just fine with their parent's decision whether that involves moving cross country, starting divorce proceedings or introducing them to a significant other."

If I weren't so focused on the _gravity_ of what she's saying, I'd find her reddened cheeks and impassioned speech downright sexy.

Piper takes a deep breath before continuing. "What I'm saying is that if Harper has a problem with you and me together, _she_ shouldn't be the reason we'd end things."

I chew on those words and try to allow the rational side of my brain to make an appearance. We've gone from an exploratory first kiss to scorching sex to _what's best for children _in the span of an hour, and it feels like emotional whiplash. "I've never been with someone so…"

A grin surfaces on her flushed face. "Reasonable, honest, clinically trained?"

"All of the above." My lips tug up and I return to my former horizontal position. "I respect your opinion and your training. It's just going to take me a while to adjust to someone so…wise."

"I don't know how _wise_ I am." She lies down next to me, slipping an arm around my waist and tickling me in the most provocative way as her fingertips leave a trail of goosebumps on my flesh. "I've just been in school for a fucking long time."

I place the softest bit of pressure on her swollen lips. I wonder how long the exhilarating feeling I have each time we kiss will last, because I gotta tell you, right now, it's heavenly.

"It's worth mentioning that if you and I…you know," she trails off. "I don't think Harper would have a problem with it."

I let out a light laugh. "She already adores you and you've only known each other for a week."

"I hope that makes two of you."

"It does."

I kiss her with more fervor this time, and I'm not quite prepared for the turmoil of sensations that runs through my body. My skin feels warm, and my insides are coiled up like a spring waiting for release. There's a sense of dizziness akin to when I've had the perfect number of cocktails—it's a pleasant sort of giddiness where if I had another, I'd slip over the edge. This feeling of kissing and touching Piper affects my body like a perpetual buzz.

As I feel myself drift off to sleep in her warm embrace, my thoughts turn to Harper, and I know I can't stay in Piper's room all night. This was risky enough as it is.

"I should probably go back to my room." I place a trail of kisses up her neck. There's a bit of saltiness on her skin from the tinge of sweat I noticed on her forehead while we were in the throes of passion.

"Probably," she says halfheartedly. She runs a hand over the curve of my bare shoulder and follows it with her eyes. "I like the way you feel." She pulls back and places the other hand on my cheek. "And the way you touch me."

"Me, too." I could be easily persuaded to stay in bed with just the tender way she's looking at me, but my better angels get their way. "Good night, Piper."

"Good night."

I get out of bed and head to my room without turning around for fear I'll go running back to her and never leave until morning.

I climb in the huge bed with Harper, and as I drift off to sleep, I think this could be a very good thing.

* * *

Author's Note: I always allow my Muse to lead me when I write, and this sex scene happened before I thought it should, but it felt right when I wrote it back in January and it felt right when I reread it today. I hope it didn't feel premature or rushed. More to come soon…


	5. Chapter 5

The next morning, I wake up from a deep sleep to the shrill sound of my alarm. I bolt out of bed, rub my face and recall what happened last night, wondering if it was only a dream. Harper is still asleep next to me, and I'm assuming Piper is still in her room.

Last night I threw caution to the wind in spectacular fashion. Holding Piper's hand in the same bed as my daughter was dangerous, and if I'm being honest, it was _reckless_. What if Harper would've woken up and saw us in such an intimate position? She wouldn't have known what to make of it, and I'm damn well not ready to tell my daughter that I'm_ messing around with the nanny_. For all I know, it was a one-time thing. I won't burden Harper with a _what if_ scenario that's embryonic at best.

That being said, I really, _really_ like being with Piper. I love the way she smells, the way she tastes, the way she talks, and the way she moans when I touch her in certain areas. I also love how educated she is on what's best for children. She strikes me as someone who wouldn't sit idly by if she witnessed improper parenting. Not that I think she's audacious enough to call someone out in public, but she sure as hell let me know what was best for Harper even though she picked an awkward moment to share her opinion. I _respect_ her, and that means more to me than almost any other trait.

I peek my head out of the half-opened bedroom door.

"Piper?" I whisper.

She's sitting on the sofa, reading _The New York Times _and I have to smile at the many times I saw her head buried in the same paper on the Subway. She rotates her neck and a smile spreads across her face like the sun coming out from behind a cloud. "Morning."

I close the door and step further into the living room. "I was wondering if last night was a dream."

She lowers the newspaper. "I'd call it _dreamy_, but it wasn't a dream."

I make my way towards her. "Do you have a secret cheesy side?"

She grabs my hand and pulls me. "It's not secret, it just hasn't come out until now."

My hands land on the back of the sofa on either side of her face, and I lean down and kiss the smirk right off of it. I shouldn't have done that with the way my thoughts have spiraled already this morning, but my body is magnetically drawn to her. "You taste like coffee."

I follow her eyes towards the mug on the side table. "That's because I'm drinking coffee."

"Can I have a sip?" I ask while reaching for the cup regardless of her response. "Mmm. How'd you sleep?"

"Well. You?"

"Great." I hand the cup to her.

She takes a sip. "Are you feeling ok about this?"

I contemplate the best answer to her question. On one hand, I feel _great_ about it, but on the other, I have grave concerns. I settle for the truth: "I have mixed feelings."

She gives me a single nod. "That's understandable."

"It doesn't change the fact that I want to kiss you all morning." I run my fingers through blonde hair and instantly remember tugging on it last night as an orgasm ripped through her.

"I'd like that." She lets out a soft laugh, but it's rimmed with the slightest bit of hesitation. "But is it the responsible thing to do?"

I hang my head, wishing there was a chart in my lap with all the right answers. "Probably not."

"Probably not," she repeats.

We're two intelligent, rational women who long for the same thing but whose moral compass is too well-tuned to lead us down the wrong path. As a young adult, I would've given into my carnal desires without a second thought. Sometimes I loathe being older and wiser.

But then unpredictably, Piper cups my cheek and leans forward. There's no mistaking what's about to happen, and I'm powerless to stop it. The kiss deepens, and I'm lost. My head is whirling, and my body is all tingly just like it was last night. It's unsettling but also freeing to acknowledge that I'm not the one who initiated this kiss.

"If I don't stop now…" I trail off, pressing my forehead against hers.

She kisses the side of my mouth and I can feel her smirk. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Weren't we just talking about the responsible thing to do?"

"I don't remember that conversation." I can tell she's trying to keep a straight face, but she can't prevent a smirk from surfacing.

"You're evil." It takes every ounce resolve within me, but I reluctantly stand, still holding her hand. "I need to shower and get to work."

She caresses the back of my hand with her thumb. "What time do you think you'll be back?"

I bring her hand to my mouth, kissing her knuckles. "Probably around five—same time as yesterday."

An unexplained blush crawls across Piper's cheeks and I want to feel her flushed skin against my lips. I wonder what she's thinking, but she doesn't reveal the mystery.

"Have a great day with Harper."

"I will."

"Mommy?" I hear the small voice call from my room.

I smile back at her before going inside. "Good morning, kiddo."

* * *

My morning meeting goes well, and we settle on a deal with the construction worker's union that seems fair to both sides. Now, not only do I have a smile on my face because I brokered a decent deal for my company, but also because of what happened last night. No matter if it was right or wrong, _it felt amazing._

For one uninterrupted moment I allow myself to contemplate my situation with Piper. I worry about how a romantic relationship might affect Harper, but it isn't enough to warrant a talk with my daughter yet. If things heat up between us, perhaps we'll find a way to bring it up, and of course, I'd lean heavily on Piper's professional training for such a conversation. Also, Harper is a four and a half year old—how much would something like this affect her? She's already enjoying her time with Piper as her nanny, so would it be such a stretch to think she'd enjoy her as my partner?

I choke out a laugh and chastise myself for getting _way_ too far ahead of myself. I should let this play out and see where it goes, and as Piper pointed out last night, in six weeks her stint as our temporary nanny is over.

My phone chimes indicating a text message, and my lips tug up when I see Piper's name. _Harper wants to see where her mom works. Any chance you could spare a few minutes to give us a tour?_

I smile before texting:_ Just wrapped up a meeting. Come over. Signs are still up for The Cloverdale School – 8229 Trellis Street_.

_Be there within an hour. Looking forward to seeing you._

My smile grows wider as I type. _We just saw each other four hours ago_.

_Doesn't change my statement_.

I hold the phone to my chest and let out a happy sigh.

I meet with the general contractor to discuss a new construction timeline, and as the meeting wraps up, I hear a familiar voice bellowing down the walkway. "Mommy!"

I turn to see Harper running towards me. I sweep her off the ground and hug her. "Hi! Are you having a great day?"

She nods. "I went inside the lighthouse!"

I set her back on the ground. "I bet that was cool."

"It was. There were lots of steps, but I made it all the way to the top." She pulls up her little jeans. "Piper bought the lighthouse book for me, and we can read it together tonight."

"I'd like that."

Piper finally catches up to us, and I'm taken back by what she's wearing. It's not the chinos and red t-shirt or the fact that her hair is wavy; it's that unless she has one exactly like it, she's wearing my leather jacket.

"Hi," she greets me. "Your daughter is fast."

I eye her up and down. "Faster than me, that's for sure."

Harper giggles.

I jut my chin out. "Were you chilly today?"

"I hope you don't mind." She tugs at the lapels of the jacket. "I wasn't prepared for it to be this chilly and I didn't even pack a sweater."

"I don't mind at all." I have a strong urge to kiss her, but I'd never make such a foolish mistake…at least not in public. If we were in a private space, I'd gladly make such a beautiful mistake. "You look good in it."

A slight tinge of pink warms her cheeks. "Thanks."

"Mommy, why are you working at a school?"

I bend down until we're eye to eye. "I work for a company that converts schools into hotels."

She scrunches her nose. "What does that mean?"

"This is an old school building that isn't being used anymore." I stand, take her hand and start walking down the covered walkway. "So my company bought it and will make it into a hotel kind of like the one where we're staying this week, only a lot smaller."

She scratches her head. "Is _my_ school going to turn into a hotel?"

"No," I chuckle. "We only redesign schools that are closed forever."

"Where do the kids go if their school is closed forever?"

"To different schools."

We walk in and out of several classrooms and the gym, and although Harper seems a little confused about a school becoming a hotel, she enjoys touring the space and comparing it to her pre-school. She has never seen a traditional blackboard before, and she's fascinated by the concept of white chalk, making several comments about the colorful sidewalk chalk she's used in the past. I let her draw on the board, and she comments that the surface 'feels funny'.

Piper, for her part, is on the other side of me with several questions of her own. "What will the gym become?"

"This will be the main brew pub," I explain. "The tanks will go against the west wall, there will be three service counters along the perimeter, and we'll have tables and chairs for about 50 people in the center." I walk to the other side. "We'll have a couple of billiards tables here and a foosball table there. I think we're going to put up some dart boards, too."

"Nice," she comments.

Harper stares up at me. "Is there a playground?"

"Yes." We walk back outside under an awning and turn the corner to a dilapidated playground with old metal slides, swings and monkey bars.

"This is a scary playground." Harper touches the slide. "And it's dirty."

I chuckle. "We're going to take care of that."

"Have you thought about making a kids area?" Piper asks.

I swivel my head and look at her. "What do you mean?"

"A place where kids can play safely, not on this old metal equipment, and parents can drink their beers without having to entertain their children."

"I hadn't thought about that."

"There's a brewery in Brooklyn and one in Chelsea that have children's play areas," she says.

I smile. "Maybe we could check them out some time."

"I'd love to."

Is it too early to _swoon_? I just want to take her in my arms, spin her around and kiss her, damn the consequences of a potentially confused daughter.

I finish showing them around the old school, and then my phone chimes indicating that it's time for me to call the office in New York.

"I hate to do this, but I have to go back to work." I kiss Harper on the cheek. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Can we go swimming again?"

"It's kind of chilly for a swim don't you think?" I respond.

"There's a smaller, heated indoor pool," Piper comments.

"Yeah, we can go in that one," my daughter agrees.

I imagine Piper in a bikini again, only this time, I know what the thin material hides. Trouble is, seeing her in the swimsuit will only ignite the fire that burns in my belly. I'll want to touch her, and that shouldn't happen until we sort things out.

"Have a great afternoon," I say to both of them.

Piper smiles. "You, too."

* * *

I arrive back at the resort just after five o'clock and quickly change into my still damp swimsuit. It's freezing against my skin, but thoughts of seeing Piper in her bikini warm me from the inside.

I enter the indoor heated space and feel a sense of pride when I see Piper holding Harper by the hands and swinging her around the water in a circle. She's singing a song, but the only words I can make out are _motor boat, motor boat_. I remove my coverup and join them in the shallow end.

"Hi, mom!" She swims over to me. "We're playing motor boat."

"Hey." Piper walks our way, and even though she's wearing the same bikini as yesterday somehow she looks even more attractive today.

"How do you play motor boat?" I ask.

Harper teaches me the song, and then swims to Piper for a demonstration. We play that game for another ten minutes, and while I'm paying attention to my daughter's enjoyment, I can't take my eyes off Piper. She seems to be equally affected.

"Can we have room service again tonight?" Harper asks after showing me her freestyle strokes.

"Sure."

She splashes around. "Can Piper come in the bed with us, too?"

Harper has no idea how difficult it is for me to answer that question. If it were Hilda, I'd have no problem with it, because there would be no question about the platonic nature of our relationship. However in this instance, responding affirmatively will signal to Piper (as well as to myself) that I'm ok with opening ourselves up to the possibility of hooking up again. I'm not ok with that. Let me rephrase that—I'd love to _more than kiss_ Piper again, but it's not in Harper's best interest. Besides, it's borderline creepy to be intimate with Piper in the same bed as my daughter even if we're just holding hands.

"You'll have to ask Piper," I respond, once again turning the reins over to her to avoid having to make a difficult decision.

"I'd love to join you."

I curse the thumping of my heart and the exhilaration that courses through my veins at anticipating being next to her in bed again. I can control myself; it's just that I don't want to.

We get out of the pool single file, Harper first followed by Piper and then me. As if my body has a mind of its own, I place a hand on her hip and squeeze it, removing it seconds later like it was scorched by a fire. She helps Harper dry off first, and then wraps a towel around her own body. I can see goosebumps on her skin, and I want desperately to press my body against hers to warm her.

We go through the same routine as the night before, and once again, just as I'm finished with my shower, dinner arrives.

Harper jumps on the king sized bed. "Do I get pizza again?"

"I ordered something even yummier." Piper opens the cloche and reveals a bowl of pasta primavera. I'm more interested in the gap in Piper's robe exposing her left breast.

"Spaghetti? I don't see any yucky tomatoes so that's good." She settles into her spot on the bed. "Mom, I'm thirsty."

I'm startled back into action, pouring the small carton of milk into a glass. "Here you go." I peek over Piper's shoulder, placing a hand on her waist. "What did you order for us?"

"Burrata artichoke salad and shrimp spring rolls."

I have to stop myself from kissing her, so I back away before my lips betray me. "Sounds delicious and nutritious."

"Do you think _Summer Camp Island_ is on?"

"We can check." Piper turns on the television. "I didn't realize there's a TV guide." She scrolls through the children's options. "Have you ever watched the show _Double Dare_?"

Harper shakes her head.

"I think you'll like it. The kids answer trivia questions and compete in messy games that sometimes involve slime."

"I made slime at school once." She twirls the pasta with her fork.

"I bet that was fun."

By the time Piper joins us in bed, I have our dinner set up.

I stab a piece of cheese and mixed greens. "I love Burrata."

"Me, too…and artichokes."

Piper alternates between eating her dinner and helping Harper with her somewhat messy pasta, making sure she gets a vegetable in each bite and not just noodles. She butters a roll for her and silently passes the other half to me. Harper quickly catches on to _Double Dare_ and laughs every time someone get slimed. Once again, it feels like complete domestic bliss. I could get used to this.

Just like last night, Harper falls asleep not long after finishing dinner.

"I hope you wear her out this much every day," I comment, removing the tray.

Piper stacks the remaining plates on the other tray. "The physical activity is good for her."

"It also makes her sleep better."

We clean up the rest of our dinner, and Piper rolls the cart into the living room.

"Sleep tight." I tuck Harper in, kiss her on the forehead, and then close the door behind me as I make my way next to Piper who's standing in front of the large window.

"This is such a beautiful view," she comments.

"It is."

Even standing next to her makes my body react. My pulse quickens, and I feel a burning sensation in my throat. My chest swells and I'm lightheaded, feeling almost weightless as if I could be knocked to the ground by even the slightest breeze. It's an unforeseen visceral reaction to my proximity to Piper.

Although my eyes are fixated on the sailboats bobbing in the bay, I can see Piper's head swivel in my direction through the reflection in the glass. She's staring at me, speechless. The air between us is as thick as the breath I take. It would be so easy to turn to her and make this our second intimate moment, but I don't.

"Thank you for showing us around the worksite today." Her voice is an octave lower than usual, making such a casual sentence sound sensual.

"I'm glad you came. I've never taken Harper to work, so I'm sure it was a treat for her to see what I do."

"She had a million questions on the way back to the resort."

My eyes are still directed towards the water. "Did she?"

"Mostly about the playground and the blackboard." Piper's voice is almost back to normal, and I wonder if the sexually charged moment has passed. "She compared the school to her own, which is an impressive skill for a child her age."

The corner of my mouth twitches up. "She surprises me every day."

I take a chance and look at her. She has no makeup on, her hair is still damp and messy from her shower, and she's barefoot wearing a hotel-issued robe. My breath hitches when I acknowledge inwardly that she's the most beautiful woman I've ever met. And it's stupid, really. I've met and even dated many women more traditionally attractive than Piper—at least on the surface. But it's _everything_ about her that makes her beautiful.

My mouth opens slightly like it knows what it wants, and my lips stick together from dryness. I have to search for enough saliva to swallow. "You're breathtaking," I choke out in a hoarse voice. My comment surprises me as much as it does Piper.

She takes a step closer, placing one hand on my forearm. There's nothing intimate about my _forearm_, yet Piper has made it so. My skin prickles at her touch and the lightheadedness has returned. It frightens me that I can't pull away; the truth of it is _I don't want to_.

She tilts her chin up and her mouth hovers just below mine. I can feel her breath on my lips, and I shut my eyes, clenching my jaw. A light moan might've escaped from the depths of my belly, but before I have a chance to check myself, Piper closes the gap between us, and I'm lost in the warmth of her mouth. I melt into her, slowly lifting one hand to her hip while the other reaches for her cheek.

A muffled sound escapes Piper's mouth, and I swallow it down like it's a reward for kissing her. She angles her face, deepening the kiss but not adding pressure, and I'm gone. This is the kind of kiss, the kind of _moment_, where I could lose myself to her. If my brain was functioning properly, I'd wonder how that could happen on only our second union. _Impossible_. Yet here we are kissing as if we had no worries and all the time in the world.

We pull back at the same time, and I can see amazement—_wonder_—in her eyes, and I know they're a reflection of mine.

I shake my head hardly believing the way she makes me feel. "I…" No other words come out—even if there are words I want to say, they're trapped too deep to extract.

Piper simply nods and pulls me into a deep embrace. I splay my hands across her back, feeling the soft cotton of the robe against my palms and smelling the rosemary mint shampoo in her hair. It's an unspoken moment of understanding; we both know we shouldn't take things further.

She tugs me to the sofa and curls her body against mine. The fact that we're staying in the living room tells me everything—there will be no sex tonight. While my body would love nothing more than to pleasure and be pleasured by Piper, my head is telling me this is the way it needs to be for now.

I try to return to casual conversation. "Besides coming to see me at the school, what else did you do today?"

"While Harper was in the kid's club, I wrote for a couple hours." She rubs her thumb against my knuckles. "I found out the dates when I'll defend my dissertation."

"Oh?"

"November 20 & 21, right before Thanksgiving."

I steeple our fingers. "Are you excited?"

She nods. "And a little nervous. I have so much research and writing to do."

"Well, if there's anything I can do…" I trail off.

"Thanks." She smiles at me. "Anyway, Harper and I perused the gift store, where I bought the book about the lighthouse. She wanted me to read it to her right away, so we came back to the room. I thought she might take a nap, but that's when she asked if we could go see you."

"Mmm. That's why she's so tired tonight," I comment.

"That plus all the swimming."

Piper adjusts until her shoulder is under the crook of my arm. "How was your day?"

"Great," I reply. "I was able to compromise with the union rep, so construction will begin tomorrow."

"That's good to hear." She smiles. "How long will it take to complete the project?"

"About nine months until we're able to open the brew pub, but the hotel won't be done for three or four months after that."

"Is that typical?"

"Yeah, pretty much." I rub a strand of blonde hair between my thumb and index finger. "I really will give some thought to a sort of kid's club at the property. I just wonder how it might affect insurance."

Piper holds my free hand. "Good point."

My pulse has returned to normal and the once sexually charged moment has faded. While I'm conflicted about that, I know conversing with Piper like this is what's best for now. And I love talking with her—she asks good questions, shares opinions and listens intently.

"If there are play structures in place like a slide or a jungle gym, my guess is there's liability," I say. "If you're up for it when we get back, let's go to the breweries you were telling me about that have a kid's play area. I want to pick the owners' brain about it."

"Ok." She brings our hands to her mouth, kissing the back of mine. "Speaking of getting back to Manhattan, when are we leaving?"

"Oh, sorry I forgot to tell you. Tomorrow morning."

"Harper is going to be disappointed," Piper says. "This was a nice vacation for her."

"True, but she loves going to school."

She twists around. "Do you think they'd mind if I observed the kids at school one day as part of my research?"

"I don't see why not." I shrug. "I'll give you the principal's contact info."

"I'm not sure if observing children in that setting will add anything to my research, but it's worth exploring."

As much as I'd like to stay on the sofa with her talking the night away, it has been an exhausting day, and I need to get some sleep.

I carefully untangle our bodies and stand in front of her. "I liked seeing you in my jacket today."

She grins. "I thought you might."

"You're welcome to wear it any time."

"Good to know."

I lean forward one final time, kissing her hairline. "Sleep well, Piper."

"You, too."

"Mommy?"

"Hi, kiddo." I roll over next to her. "How'd you sleep?"

"Good." She yawns. "I like this bed."

"I'm glad." I brush her hair out of her eyes. "We have to leave this morning."

"Where are we going?"

"Home." I stand and stretch. "I'm finished my work here."

"I don't want to leave." She sits up. "I like it here."

"I know." I pull my duffle bag and her tiny suitcase from under the bed. "We'll go on another trip soon."

"Can we have dinner in bed again?"

"When we're on another trip we can."

"Can Piper come, too?"

"Maybe." My lips curl upwards. "Sounds like you like having Piper around."

"Yeah." She climbs off the bed. "She's more fun than Hilda even though I still like Hilda, too."

My smile doesn't fade. "I'm glad."

"Can we order breakfast in bed?"

"Sorry, kiddo, but we really have to get a move on." I open the dresser drawer and start packing her suitcase. "Maybe we can stop at Dunkin Donuts on the way home."

"Ooooh! I'm going to get a jelly one with powdered sugar! I bet Piper will want the same."


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Note: Thank you kindly for the reviews so far! Here's another long chapter to tide you over for the weekend. This chapter is rated M for Mature.

* * *

Things at work are hectic over the next two weeks, and I have to put in longer hours than usual. Piper has been a godsend in helping me get Harper off to school in the morning and making dinner every night without any assistance from me. She makes interesting, healthy dishes like spiced aubergine pide or sweet potato cashew soup, and Harper loves all of it. She's changed up breakfast a bit too, sometimes making avocado toast with cream cheese or roasted vegetable frittatas.

Every night after my daughter goes to sleep, Piper and I cozy up on the sofa for ten or 15 minutes, but we don't get _too_ physical. We hold hands or put an arm around each other as we talk about our day, and we usually end the night with a drawn-out kiss at the door that has the promise of so much more. Every time we kiss, it gets incrementally more difficult to keep my feelings in check. I want to hold her in my arms and lead her upstairs without a care in the world.

I don't know why we're waiting to discuss a potential relationship. Piper seems to be hoping I'll take the lead, but I don't know where to go from here. Subconsciously, I think I'm just buying time until Hilda returns. But what then—would it be any easier for Harper to grasp that I'm dating her _former_ nanny when Piper is officially done with her responsibilities here? I doubt it. I've had three weeks to have the talk with Piper after my daughter is asleep, but I've not brought it up yet. To be fair, our conversations are brief though rich. I love hearing about what she did with Harper on any given day and what she researched or wrote for her dissertation. One thing is for certain: we don't lack in the conversational department.

One random evening, I read a few pages of the lighthouse book to Harper before she drifts off to sleep, and then I find Piper in the kitchen. I silently watch her move around with efficiency as she puts away dishes and wipes the counter.

"You scared me." She turns around, placing a hand over her heart. "What are you doing?"

"Just watching you." I take a few steps into the kitchen, backing her against the refrigerator. This goes against our usual routine of only kissing as she's about to leave, but I desperately want to feel her mouth against mine.

She grins against my lips. "Watching me clean?"

"Yeah." I kiss her. "I like having you here."

"I like being here." She nips at my lower lip. "Though it feels kind of weird that you're paying me to be here."

I take her hand, leading her into the living room. "Technically, I pay Morningside Nannies, and they pay you."

"It's still awkward." She tucks a leg under her on the sofa. "What's going to happen when Hilda comes back?"

Here's my chance to summon the courage to broach the subject of what happens next, and even though it might be uncomfortable, it's something we have to discuss. "I don't know. What do you want to happen?"

She shrugs. "I don't want you to let her go, but I'd also like to keep taking care of Harper."

"You're good with her." I link our fingers together.

"And I need the income to pay bills."

"This thing between us…" I scrunch my lips to the side. "It's good, right?"

She furrows her brow. "_I _think it is, why?"

"I just…" My mouth feels bloated like it's filled with a hundred jumbled words and the wrong ones might tumble out. "We can't seem to move forward with the looming question of how Harper might react to our being a couple."

She detaches herself from me, and I wonder if it's because she knows this is going to be a heavy conversation. "Do you think it's time to talk to Harper?"

I lift my shoulders. "You're the child psychologist."

She juts her chin back, but there's a slight grin on her face. "_Now_ you're asking me to slip into clinical mode?"

"It seems appropriate."

She exhales and tosses her hair over her shoulder as if there needs to be a physical demonstration of switching roles from _potential girlfriend_ to _psychologist_ like Clark Kent went into a phone booth to morph into Superman. "In my professional opinion, parents should have a conversation with their child about a significant other when they can fully embrace that concept."

I turn more fully towards her. "What concept?"

"That the person they're dating is _significant_, not just a boyfriend or girlfriend." She gesticulates with her hands, and if the moment weren't such a serious one, I'd focus on her long, slender fingers and where I'd like them to be.

"If the child is too young to understand romantic relationships, which Harper is, it would be difficult for her to process meeting your different love interests one after the other even if that meant meeting one in January and another in November." She quickly adjusts her statement with the shake of her head. "Not that you'll have multiple partners in a year, but if you _did_ and chose to introduce each one to Harper, it would likely confuse her." She glances at me as if waiting for a response.

"I don't intend to have multiple partners." I leave it at that and contain a smirk.

Her shoulders drop in what appears to be a sign of relief and she goes on. "Children tend to either latch on to a parent's partner or shun him or her. Obviously, you hope for the former and you don't want your child to go through a roller coaster of emotions each time she's introduced to someone new." She pauses. "What I mean is that you have to be sure about our relationship—that it's stable and has staying power—before you broach the subject with Harper."

I glance at a random spot on the wall, hoping to collect my thoughts before replying to her clinical analysis. "How do we really know anything?" I ask. "I mean, you could decide you don't want to be with me when you're done with your Ph.D."

"You're right, I could," she replies. "But I don't think that's going to happen, which brings me to the part that actually needs to take place before a conversation with Harper."

"Which is?"

"You and I need to discuss where we are in our relationship." She tightens her jaw. "It's not something that should be forced, but it's probably not going to happen naturally."

"So what? We schedule a time to talk about where we are with this?" I ask incredulously.

"That would be forcing it," she responds. "We're talking about it now, so…"

I scratch my head. "Should we literally write down the pros and cons of being together?"

"That works for some people," she replies. "Is that something you'd want to do?"

"No." I chuckle again. "I don't think that's necessary."

Piper gets to her feet and paces behind the coffee table. "Speaking strictly as a psychologist, I don't think a person is ready to talk with her child about a romantic relationship until she's squarely in love with her partner."

My mouth goes dry and I blink a couple of times at her use of the word _love_. A sudden awareness punches me in the gut—I'm not there yet, but it's because I haven't _allowed_ myself to feel that strongly about Piper. I wouldn't say I've been holding back, but I've also not given myself completely to her. We've had sex one time and haven't even gone on a _date_ yet.

"We're not there yet," she says in a gentle tone.

I smile, thankful that she voiced my thoughts. "I guess not."

My mind whirls with thoughts about our relationship, where it is now and where it's headed. I don't do well with uncertainty, and I'm living in a moment of limbo right now. There have been very few moments of silence between us, and the discomfort is like an itch I can't scratch.

She sits across from me on the coffee table, legs evenly spread and elbows on her knees. "I hope you don't get the impression that I'm trying to nail down what we mean to each other."

"No." I shake my head. "It's not that—I don't feel pressured by you." I trail a hand through my hair. "But why ask if I was ready to talk to Harper if you knew that my response should be _no_?"

"Your response _shouldn't_ have been no." She leans back a bit. "If you feel like you're ready to talk to Harper, then you should talk to her."

Confusion crosses my brow. "That's not what you just said."

"I said that in my professional opinion, I don't think a person is ready to talk with her child about a romantic relationship until she's squarely in love with her partner," she states plainly.

My cheeks start to burn and suddenly it's too warm in here. "Essentially you're saying I'm not ready to have a conversation with my daughter because I'm not in love with you."

She covers her heart with her hand. "It's my fault for asking if you were ready to talk to her."

The heat on my face spreads to my ears. "It's no one's fault, I just don't understand why you'd ask it if you know what's best for Harper."

Piper stands again and moves away from me with a hand on the back of her neck. "Sometimes you accuse me of slipping into clinical mode, and I wanted to step out of it for a change and hear the thoughts of my…pseudo-girlfriend."

My lips twitch at hearing her refer to me as her girlfriend even though the word _pseudo_ is in front of it, but I don't comment on the term right now. "That must be hard for you—wondering how to act when you're with me."

She lifts her shoulders. "It's generally not difficult, but when it comes to how our relationship might affect Harper, I admit that I dip into my psychological training more than maybe I should."

"I usually don't mind when you do that." I scoot to the edge of the sofa. "If you know what's best for my daughter from a scientific or neurological standpoint, I want to hear it. That's why I'm a little surprised you'd ask a question that you know the answer to."

"Maybe it's because I want the answer to be _yes_—yes you're ready to tell Harper about us." She spins around in a flurry. "Even though I _know_ we're not ready for such a declaration, maybe I just want to tell Harper and the whole fucking world that we're falling in love!"

I'm stunned at her response. Is that what's been happening—we've been falling in love?

"It's ridiculous to say that out loud—" Piper rubs her forehead like she's frustrated with herself. "How can I be falling in love with someone I've known for three weeks?" She shakes her head. "We've only had sex _once_!"

"You don't have to remind me." I stand, walking over to her and I'm grateful for a wave of coolness that rushes to my face. "I might not know much about psychology." I feel my lips tugging up. "But I know that euphoric feeling of falling in love."

Maybe that's it—I haven't allowed myself to be in love with Piper, but I'm actively _falling_ in love with her and there's not a damn thing I can do to stop it.

"There's this flashing neon sign in my head," I say, lifting one of her hands. "That says _Proceed with Caution_." I kiss her knuckles. "And sometimes I just want to unplug it."

"I know," she whispers. "And I want to do the right thing when it comes to Harper, but I also want to hold your hand or kiss you when we're together..."

"But we're not there yet," I finish, repeating her earlier statement.

She sighs, bowing her head as our foreheads rest against each other. "Right."

"Hey." I lift her chin with two fingers. "We still have something to celebrate."

"What's that?" she asks in a defeated tone.

"As crazy as it is, it sounds like we're falling in love."

As if her eyes are on a dimmer switch, they light up and a joyful smile slowly surfaces. "We are."

I kiss her softly, hoping she feels the _earnestness_ of my touch. "Would it be jinxing it to say I think we're on the right path?"

"Not at all." She cranes her neck and kisses me harder this time.

I comb my fingers through her hair, savoring the way her mouth feels against mine. I know this could turn into a passionate moment, but I stop.

"Thank you for talking this out with me," I say.

She rubs my cheek. "It's nice to be with someone who's willing to have hard, uncomfortable conversations."

"I don't think anyone _wants_ to do that, but sometimes we have to."

She nods. "I agree."

I'm _this close_ to asking her to spend the night, but I can't do that without talking to Harper first.

I walk her to the door. "Hey, do you want to hit those breweries this weekend?"

"Yeah. I think I have a lunch thing to go to on Saturday, but Sunday is wide open."

"Good." I kiss her. "I'll ask my mom to watch Harper; maybe even spend the night."

Her fingertips skim my cheek. "It's a date."

"It's a date." I smile. "Good night, Piper."

* * *

"You sure are all dolled up," my mom comments from her spot next to Harper at the kitchen table. "Hot date?"

I give her the stink eye—she knows better than to talk about dating in front of Harper.

"What's a hot date?"

"It's nothing," I reply, fastening my earring. "And I'm not dressed much differently than I dress every day."

"You just look…different," my mom adds. "More casual and relaxed."

"That's because I am." I try to conceal the blush creeping up my neck by wrapping a lightweight scarf around it.

"Who are you going out with, mommy?"

I grab my jacket off the coat rack. "A friend."

"Can I have a play date with my friend, Jasmine?"

"You sure can." I kiss the top of her head. "Let's talk about it tomorrow."

"What time are you coming home?" My mom enquires.

I untuck my hair that's fallen inside the jacket collar. "You brought your overnight bag, didn't you?"

She nods.

"I'm not sure if I'll be home tonight," I reply through an anxious breath. I don't want to jinx things with Piper, but I also don't want to divulge too much information to my mom. "I'll text you later."

She looks concerned and a little confused. "Oh."

"It's all good, Mom." I rub her arm and smile. "Promise."

"Just be careful, hon."

I kiss her just like I kissed Harper. "I will."

"You two have a blast," I say before leaving the house.

I exhale the moment I step outside. I don't like keeping things from my mom or my child, but until I figure out what I want to do with the whole nanny situation, I don't want to say anything. Besides, this is officially our first date—we're a long way from hiring the U-Haul.

In some ways, it would be risky to let Hilda go—she knows Harper extremely well, she's a great nanny, and I trust her. She also just had a baby and probably needs the income to support her family. I am confident she could find another placement through the nanny agency, but do I want to put her through that? What if things go sideways with Piper? We could break up in a matter of weeks, and then I'd be left heart broken and nanny-less.

Before I know it, the Subway stops in Chelsea, and I get off excited to see Piper outside of working hours.

"Alex!" She waves from the patio beyond a row of bamboo. She's wearing a red & black flannel button up shirt over a gray t-shirt with dark blue jeans.

I smile. "Hi."

I enter the brewery, then make a hard right to meet her on the patio. "Have you been waiting long?" I lean over, kissing her on the lips, and it feels so fucking good to not hide our relationship.

She strings an arm around my waist in an improvised hug. "Not even long enough to order a beer."

"Good." I sit on the stool across from her. "You look good."

She glances at her outfit. "I dress like this every day."

I grin at that exact comment I made to my mom before I left. "That may be the case, but you still look good."

"So do you." She eyes me. "I've only seen you in jeans one other time."

"When was that?"

"The day I met Harper."

"Ah."

"Hi, welcome to Hops & Pops," a server greets us. "Here are a couple menus. I'll be back to take your order in a few minutes."

"Rusty is expecting me," I say before he has a chance to walk away. "Would you mind telling him Alex is here to see him?"

"I'll let him know."

I return my attention to Piper. "Sorry, I hope it's ok if I talk to the owner for like ten minutes about the kids' play area."

She shrugs. "That's the reason we're here."

I reach for her hand. "It's not the _only_ reason."

She smiles. "You don't have to apologize for talking shop for a little while."

"Thank you."

She rubs the back of my hand. "Did you tell your mom who you were going out with today?"

"No, but she was curious."

"Have you told anyone?"

She glances at the menu. "I told my friend, Polly—the one whose last name is Harper."

"You told her you were going on a date with your boss?" I regret using that word the instant it slips off my tongue.

She lifts her eyes to meet mine. "You're not my boss."

"No, you're right. Sorry." I shrug. "I don't know how to describe our…professional relationship."

"You're the mom of the girl I nanny," Piper tries. "And no, I didn't tell Polly that much."

The server returns to take our order.

"I'll have the pilsner," Piper says.

I hand him both menus. "I'll do the oatmeal stout."

"Any food with that?"

Piper glances my way. "Do you want to try the fried pickles?"

A light chuckle escapes my mouth. "Sure."

"Oh, and Rusty will be out in a few minutes."

Piper and I share stories over our beers and fried pickles. She tells me about growing up in Connecticut, about when she knew she wanted to be a psychologist, and about her life as an undergraduate at Smith College when she had sex with a woman for the first time.

We order another round of beers.

I move my stool closer to her. "So, do you consider yourself bi-sexual?"

"Yes." She sips the beer. "What about you?"

"I'm 100% gay all the time," I chuckle. "I've known that pretty much my whole life."

"I never felt that pull to either sex," she replies with a shrug. "I like hot girls and I like hot guys."

I try the amber ale. "Do you think sex is better with one or the other?"

"Not necessarily better, just different." She glances at me. "I guess you could say I like a woman's breasts more than a man's chest, but everything else is pretty even."

"You like _dick_ more than pussy?" I ask through a grin.

"I like to be…filled." A blush crawls up her neck as she looks down at the table. "I don't think we should talk about this here."

"No one can hear us," I say, looking around to see if anyone is paying attention. The closest patrons are a table of six, and they seem wrapped up in their own conversation.

"Still…"

I raise one eyebrow as I pull her hand into my lap. "Does it turn you on to talk about sex?"

She rubs the back of her neck. "Kind of."

Of course, _that_ turns me on.

"Discussions about sex should be private," she whispers. "And I'd be happy to continue going down that path in the privacy of my home."

I smirk. "Are you inviting me to your place?"

"Did you think you needed an invitation?"

"It's always nice to be asked."

She takes a long swig of beer.

A thought suddenly frightens me. "Just so we're clear, we're not talking about a threesome, are we?"

"God, no!" She makes a face. "That's disgusting."

I laugh. "Good."

A tall, bearded man approaches our table. "Hi, which one of you is Alex?"

"That's me." I shake his hand.

"I'm Rusty. You're the one from Tannehill's?"

"I am."

"I'm going to go check out the inside of the brewery." Piper stands. "Be back in a little while."

I give her a look, hoping she understands she doesn't have to leave during my conversation with him. She smiles, and I take that it's her choice to go explore the brewery a bit more.

Rusty takes me around the side of the brewery where the kid's area is and fills me in on the play space and the insurance mandates, stating that in the three years they've been open, they've never had an incident report filed. "Don't get me wrong, kids skin their knees and get in little fights, but the parents have never blamed us."

"Good to know." I toss a plastic ball into a bin. "It looks like a pretty simple set up."

"Yeah, we contemplated getting the kind of playground contraption like McDonald's has, but those things are a shit ton of money and probably a little more hazardous than an oversized Connect Four and plastic basketball hoops."

I observe three kids playing. "Do you require the parents to sit nearby?"

"We don't require it," he replies. "But they're usually no more than a few feet away."

"This has been super helpful," I say. "Thank you for your time."

"You bet."

I walk back to our table just as Piper returns with two beers. "The guy inside said these were on the house."

"That was nice of him. Cheers."

"Cheers." She sips the beer. "How'd the conversation go?"

"It went well. I'd already broached the topic with the partners at Tannehill's, and they're on board as long as the insurance isn't outlandish."

"Is it?"

"In my preliminary research, it doesn't seem to be, but I'm going to contact a few more companies just to be sure." I sip my third beer. "This is good. What is it?"

"I think that one's the pale ale." She slides her mug towards me. "This is the Hefeweizen."

I take a sip. "All their beers are good."

She leans forward, placing a hand on my knee. "Is it just me or are you feeling a little tipsy?"

"I'm ok." I grin, amused by what a lightweight she is and slightly turned on by the way she's grabbing my knee. "I was hoping to hit the brewery in Brooklyn after this, but I wouldn't mind going back to your place."

Her eyes dip low as she glances at my mouth, and then meets my eyes. "I'd like that."

There's no question what's going to happen when we get behind closed doors. I signal for the server to give us the bill and then silently slip a few bills into the black and I don't finish our beers before heading towards the Subway hand in hand.

"This feels good," I say, swinging our arms. "Not having to hide being together."

She glances up at me. "It does."

We take the Subway back Uptown, and we're far more touchy than I'm accustomed to in public. It's not like we're kissing or hanging all over each other, but we're sitting next to each other fiddling with each other's hands and grinning like school kids. The smell of her is intoxicating, and I don't know how her perfume seems to last all day.

"Here we are." She holds the door open. "Welcome."

I'm astonished at the luxurious décor; it doesn't strike me as Piper's style. "_This_ is your apartment?"

"Technically, no. I'm subletting it from a professor who's on sabbatical." She squeezes my hands, and then walks towards the kitchen, flipping on the light switch along the way.

I follow her. "This is all his stuff…or hers?"

"Her," she replies, pulling a bottle of white wine from the fridge and holding it up silently asking if I'd like a glass. "Since my second year of grad school, I've sublet apartments all over the city. It's way cheaper than renting and I haven't had to buy furniture."

"Sounds like a good deal." I search her cabinets for wine glasses, though I must admit I'm a little shocked that we didn't ravish each other the second we stepped inside.

"I prefer living somewhere for an extended period of time, but there've been times when I'm forced to take a place for as little as six weeks out of desperation." She pops the cork. "I don't have a lot of personal belongings—four or five boxes of clothes & shoes and maybe two miscellaneous boxes."

I hold one glass steady as she pours. "What about books for school?"

"I've kept the ones I think will be useful for my career, but I usually buy and sell them or even rent them through the college." She fills the second glass. "I check out books to read for pleasure at the public library."

"Smart—prevents clutter." I tap my glass against hers, and then follow her into the living room, glancing at the gold-framed artwork on the teal walls.

"Most of the places I rent belong to professors. As you can see, they're usually filled with books."

There are two walls lined with floor to ceiling bookcases. The room has a sort of _Great Gatsby_ feel to it with its leather chairs, velvet sofa and ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

"Let me guess." I walk over to one of the bookcases. "This is a history professor's apartment?"

"Nope." She sits on the yellow velvet couch.

"Hmm…" I lift a book off the shelf. "Anthropology?"

"Classics," Piper says. "Professor Elaine Watson from Fordham. She's on sabbatical until the end of the month."

"She has a nice place." I don't ask what Piper's plans are after that. "What does subletting entail?"

"In this particular case, I pay the utilities and keep her cockatoo alive."

I search the room and find the white bird in a cage in the corner behind me. "Sounds like a good gig, especially for someone in school like yourself."

"It's usually great, but I've had some challenging situations in the past."

"Like what?" I prop an arm up on the back of the sofa. It's clear she wants to talk rather than head directly into the bedroom, so I settle in and enjoy listening to the sound of her voice.

"The first place I sublet was downtown, so the commute was brutal," she begins. "It was also pretty run down, but I was desperate to find a place when my roommate backed out on a lease at the last minute." She sips her wine. "The next two places were fine, but the following one was a disaster. The washing machine broke the first week I was there, and we had so much snow that winter that the roof partially collapsed."

"That sounds awful."

"The student I was subletting from was studying abroad in Istanbul, and there was nothing he could do. His parents lived in Florida and called a maintenance crew to fix the roof, but I spent a week sleeping in the living room while the bedroom ceiling was tarped."

"I guess stuff like that isn't preventable." I sip the wine. "What was the nicest place you've ever stayed?"

"This one." She walks to the kitchen. "After the whole roof thing, I decided to only rent from professors or other professionals." She returns with the bottle. "I stayed in a penthouse in Newark with phenomenal views of the city, but just like the one I told you about earlier, the commute was hell."

I pour a little more wine into each of our glasses. "A penthouse?"

She nods. "He was an attorney working on a big case in L.A. and needed someone to take care of his cats for a couple months. He didn't even make me pay rent—it was all about Mimi and Blacky." Piper swirls the wine in her glass. "What about you? Where have you lived?"

"I've never sublet a place, but I've lived in some shit holes as a child and well into my 20s," I respond. "Nicky and I rented what amounted to a converted shed in this family's backyard on Staten Island for a year." I smile at the memory. "It wasn't insulated and didn't even have a kitchen. I take that back—there was a microwave and a mini-fridge. There were bunk beds, a dresser and a chair. Oh, and a bathroom with a shower that was so small I had to shave my legs with the door open."

Piper laughs. "That sounds terrible!"

"It was, but I'd do it all over again if it meant Nicky was still alive." I look into my glass. "She and I lived together off and on for about 10 years."

"Did you ever see her using?"

"We smoked a shitload of pot together over the years." I fling my hair over my shoulders. "But I only caught her shooting up heroin in our apartment once and put a stop to it immediately."

A remorseful sigh escapes Piper's mouth.

"I kicked her out once. We went about two months without speaking, and then she came back, promising this would be the time she'd stay clean." I shake my head. "That lasted about six weeks before I hauled her to rehab."

She settles further into the couch. "What happened after Harper was born?"

"I think I mentioned she didn't use while she was pregnant and for about four months after Harper was born," I begin, remembering it like it was yesterday. "But she came home high a couple times, and I threatened to call CPS."

Her eyebrows spike. "Did you?"

"No, but I moved Harper's crib into my room." I set my wine glass down and rest my elbows on my knees, staring at nothing in particular. "I told her this was the last straw—she either checked herself into rehab again or I would make the call."

"Did you know Nicky was in the process of making you Harper's legal guardian?"

"We'd had a few discussions about it." I nod, keeping my eyes trained on a spot in the distance. "I vacillated from month to month, ultimately deciding it would be best for Harper if I took care of her if Nicky died."

Piper places a hand on my thigh. "You did the right thing for your friend and for Harper."

"Most of the time, I agree." I twist my neck and look at her. "But there are days when I think I made a colossal mistake."

She removes her hand. "What triggers those feelings?"

I consider asking Piper what mode she's in—girlfriend or psychologist—but it doesn't matter right now. I _want_ to examine my thoughts and trigger points.

"All sorts of things." I lean back. "When Harper has a meltdown in public; when she asks questions about her birth mom and wonders why she doesn't have a father; when I need to hire a nanny or a babysitter because I have to work." I expel a long, unsettled breath. "When I feel like I have to define my relationship with you prematurely just so I don't fuck up my daughter's well-being."

"I'm sure thousands of parents have moments when they wonder if they did the right thing by keeping their child," Piper says. "The best ones recognize that's when they need to dig deep to show love for their child. When it comes down to it, that's the question: do you love her?"

"More than I could imagine loving anything in the world," I say.

"Come back to that statement when you have a particularly bad day," she offers. "Allow yourself get upset or frustrated every once in a while but go to sleep at night knowing that Harper is a _gift_."

I let out another long breath, but this one is followed by a small smile. "Why does it seem we always come back to discussing how Nicky's death affected me?"

The corners of Piper's mouth tick up. "Because your feelings about Nicky's death and raising Harper, wondering if you're doing a good enough job, have been simmering within you for a long time. You haven't allowed your questions and grief to surface until someone started asking about your emotions."

"Someone?" I attempt a grin. "You mean _you_."

"It didn't have to be me," Piper says with a half-shrug. "It could've been the next friend you made or a therapist you began seeing."

I squeeze her hand. "I'm glad it was you."

She gives me the sweetest, most reassuring smile. "Me, too."

Piper leans over and applies the slightest bit of pressure to my mouth. I can't fathom how such an unassuming, innocent kiss can make me feel like Jell-O inside. Her breath is hot and moist against my mouth. I cover it with my own slowly, quietly returning the kiss and it almost renders me breathless. When her tongue darts out, touching mine, I reach for her cheek, drawing her close to the point of wrinkling her skin. Even with just a kiss, my body responds to her so profoundly that I don't know how I'll be able to last if she touches me.

I don't have long to wait as her left hand dips under the waistband of my jeans catching me off guard. I don't recognize the guttural sound that escapes my mouth, but Piper seems to enjoy the effect she's having on me as I feel her smirk against my mouth. I reach to remove her flannel shirt without breaking the kiss. Once the garment is gone, Piper tugs her t-shirt over her head, and I waste no time taking off her bra. Instead of starting with the clasp, I lower one of the straps, replacing it with my open mouth. Her head rolls back as she moans, and it's my turn to revel in her reaction.

"Clothes," she pants, bending one knee on the sofa and tugging at my shirt.

I stand as best I can but still within her reach, pulling my jeans down and nearly tripping in the process. Piper gets to her feet and wraps her arms around me, moving us to the hallway. We don't stop kissing or touching, and my body is on fire. There's a heavy throb between my legs that needs attention, and I move Piper's hand from my hip to my center. She grabs it through my black underwear, pressing her middle finger between my folds. I can feel the wetness between my legs, and I sense she can feel it to as she pulls back and grins devilishly at me.

Piper continues pressing her finger into my center, and I have to brace myself against the wall as my body shudders. With her free hand, she lowers my bra strap and drops her head, nudging the fabric beneath my breast with her nose. Her lips latch onto my taut nipple, and another deep growl escapes from my partially open mouth. With the same hand she used to lower the bra strap, she clutches my hip, digging fingernails into my skin. The pain only serves to heighten my senses as the finger currently curling around my underwear finds my sensitive nub.

The ache between my legs is somewhat relieved as Piper makes tiny circles on my clit, but it's not enough. I hook my hand under her arm, yanking her up until I'm able to kiss her. My hand snakes in her hair as my hips buck forward, begging for more contact. Much to my dismay, she removes her finger from my flesh, and I immediately miss the contact. She stops kissing me, pulling back to stare at my reddened face. We're both breathing heavily, panting even, and Piper returns her attention to my breasts. She unhooks my bra from behind, bathing one nipple with her tongue and pinching the other with her fingers. I toss my head back against the wall, slamming my eyes shut and praying to a god I don't believe in to _please let her touch me_ where I need it most.

Piper kisses a trail down my stomach, hands roaming my warm flesh leading the way. They travel down my thighs as her mouth dips lower to the waistband of my underwear. When she gets on her knees, my own knees buckle at the thought of what she's about to do to me. I spread my legs, and she gives me a grin of approval. Still, she slides her hands between my thighs, pushing them apart a little more. With my underwear still in place and no doubt very wet, Piper runs her nose along my slit, smelling me. When she gets to the top of my underwear, she bites it, pulling a bit of my skin with it. I grab her head and thrust forward, unnecessarily showing her what I want.

This time, she makes a quick motion removing my underwear, but I'm too weak to fully step out of them. She helps me lift one leg so the garment is less restrictive, and then places my leg over one shoulder. Piper angles her head to the left, kissing my outer lips several times. I growl her name and make a hissing sound that I've never heard come out of my mouth.

"Please," I insist.

Her tongue darts between my folds, and when she removes it, I look down to see my juices dripping from her tongue like a thin rubber band. She sucks it back in her mouth and moans, going back for more. Sex like this—in this position—shouldn't be this perfect. It should be clumsy and messy and fast, yet somehow Piper has managed finesse; she's able to drag out my impending orgasm for an insane amount of time. Just when I think I'm about to explode, she pulls back, kissing my inner thigh. The leg that I'm currently standing on is burning so much that it's almost numb. I feel it begin to shake as my knee bends.

"I can't," I pant, trying to grab onto the unyielding brick wall.

Piper lowers the leg that was over her shoulder until both of my feet are on the ground and dips her head lower. She opens my lips wide, burying her face inside. Her tongue swirls around my opening, and then journeys up to my clit. She pulls back, making a slurping sound and swallows my juices. And that's it.

She must be holding me in place, because my knees collapse with the powerful orgasm coursing through me. But then the weight is too much, and I crumble to the ground, breathing so heavily I'd swear I just sprinted a mile.

"Holy shit," I pant, arm resting on my forehead.

Piper is sporting the proudest smirk I've ever seen. "Good?"

I choke out a laugh, pulling her closer. We're propped against the wall, and I swing an arm around her to try making it a bit more comfortable than having her head rest against the exposed brick.

"It might be more comfortable if we move to the bed," she suggests, getting to her feet and holding out a hand.

I take her hand and stand on still wobbly legs.

For the rest of the night, we make love soft and slow, and it's everything I want it to be. It's the first time I haven't been worried about my daughter while I'm with Piper. It's filled with understanding and respect and _two women falling in love_.


	7. Chapter 7

I wake up the next morning, realizing I'm in an unknown bed. I turn to my left and smile at Piper's sleeping form. It dawns on me that we're at her place with no chance of Harper walking in, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I want to do this more often. Granted, I have to go home to change clothes and head to the office, but this is how I'd prefer to wake up each morning, and I'm going to find a way to make that happen sooner rather than later.

"You like staring at sleeping women?" she asks in a groggy voice.

I kiss her bare shoulder. "I like staring at _you_."

"Pervert." She smiles and runs a hand down my arm. "What time is it?"

I twist my head around to look at the alarm clock. "Almost six."

She pulls the covers higher on her body. "Mmm."

"I'm going to shower." I kiss her mouth. "And we can take the Subway to my place together if you want."

"And what?" Her eyes are still closed. "Show up basking in the glow of phenomenal sex in front of your mom and Harper?"

"Phenomenal, huh?" I smirk, rolling out of bed. "I was thinking more along the lines of a staggered arrival."

"Ugh," she groans but slowly starts making her way limb by limb out of bed. "That's far less appealing."

"I know." I walk into the bathroom and turn the faucet on. I search two cabinets for a towel and find success in the second, then I feel arms around my waist and nipples against my back. I cover her hands with mine.

Piper is a sight to behold on any given day, but I _really_ like Morning Piper. Her hair is an absolute mess, there are sheet marks across her cheek, and her eyes are bright but narrow like she's not fully awake.

"Are you joining me?"

"I am."

Shower sex is far less graceful than the second round of sex we had last night. It's hard and needy and hot as fuck. It also delays our arrival to my house by 15 minutes.

"I was wondering if you were coming home before work," my mom greets me from her spot on the sofa.

"Good morning to you, too." I hang my jacket on the rack.

She lowers the paper. "Judging from the silly grin on your face I'd say last night was worth it?"

Even though I'm pressed for time, I plop down next to her. "It was amazing."

"Any specifics you care to share?"

"All in good time, mom." I pat her leg and make my way to the stairwell. "Oh," I call. "The nanny should be here any minute. Her name is Piper."

"Piper? That's an unusual name."

"Get used to it," I mumble under my breath with a smirk. I crack open Harper's door to see her sitting up in bed. "Hey, kiddo. How long have you been awake?"

"Not long I don't think." She rubs her eyes. "I have to potty."

"Ok." I move out of the way as she scurries past me. "Did you and Gram have fun last night?"

"Yeah," she calls. "We did the giant puzzle."

"The 500-piece one?"

"Yep. Gram is really good." She flushes the toilet. "And she let me watch _Nickelodeon_."

"I hope not for too long," I say in my best warning voice. "You know you only get 30 minutes of screen time."

She marches back into her bedroom. "I know, mom!"

"I see Gram laid an outfit on the chair for you," I say. "Want to try getting dressed by yourself today?"

"Yep. I can do it."

I smile next to her bedroom door, and then quickly change into my work clothes, which consists of black slacks and a blue, collared blouse.

"Piper is here," my mom shouts from downstairs.

"Be right down." I tug on my heels, and then check on my daughter. "Need any help?"

"Nope." She stands proudly in the doorway with a bright yellow shirt, blue tights and a green skirt with cowboy boots.

I lift my eyebrows. "That's not what Gram picked out."

"I switched the shirt. The other one was a boring white t-shirt." She tugs at the hem. "This one is much better."

"If you say so," I giggle. "Let's ask Piper."

Harper rushes down the stairs. "What do you think of my outfit?"

"Good morning, Harper," she greets her at the base of the staircase. "I think it's…colorful."

"I like colors." She runs into the kitchen. "Can I have some orange juice?"

My mom appears from the kitchen, setting a cup on the table. "I already poured some for you."

"Hi," I greet Piper, fully aware of and helpless to prevent the stupid grin on my face and my traitorous skin that's surely turning pink.

"Hey." She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. "You look nice."

"So do you."

I catch my mom staring at us with a grin of her own. "Don't let me interrupt," she says.

I roll my eyes and twist my lips to the side, trying like hell to hide my smile. I can't help it—Piper makes me smile, and it's impossible to prevent it. I'm going to have to tell my mom before she figures it out on her own.

"I have to get going." I stuff my laptop in my bag and keep my eyes averted from everyone but my daughter. "What kind of day will you have?"

"A great day!" she shouts.

"See you later, kiddo." I shrug into my jacket. "Mom, thank you for watching her last night. I'll call you later."

"We had a blast," she says.

I walk backwards towards the door and turn my attention to Piper. "I should be home around 6:30 tonight."

She bites her lower lip. "See you then."

* * *

At 8:30 a.m., I'm reviewing the new contract for construction at the Newport property when I get a text message from Piper.

_Your mom had lots of questions._

I sigh. _Any inappropriate ones?_

_Not really - felt more like a conversation, but I know what we're hiding so maybe I'm oversensitive._

_I'll talk to her._

_Don't make a big deal. I like her._

That makes me smile_. U ok if I tell her about us? _

_Yeah. R you?_

_Yes. Different than telling a 4 year old._

_As Harper would remind u, she's four and a half. ;-)_

_Can't wait to see u later_.

_Me too._

I bury my head in work for the remainder of the day, stopping for only 10 minutes to eat lunch and call my mom.

"Hi, hon."

"Made it back to your house ok?" I ask around a bite of falafel.

"Yep, just about to go to the restaurant for the afternoon shift."

"Thanks again for staying with Harper last night."

"We had fun." I can hear her smile through the phone. "I only wish I could help out more often." There's a short pause. "But Piper seems to be fitting in nicely while Hilda's out."

"She is." I take a sip of water, not sure if my mouth is dry because of the falafel or what I want to tell her. "Is there something you want to ask me, mom?"

"You'd just call me nosy," she responds and I picture her motioning her hand in the air.

I don't want her to feel bad for asking questions about my love life, it's just that I don't want her fishing for information under the guise of making conversation. "Do you want to maybe have lunch this Sunday so we can talk?"

"I'd love that."

"Let's plan to meet around 12:30. I'll come to you if it's easier."

"Sounds great, hon. Have a good day."

"You, too."

* * *

I have a demanding job and my company depends on me to broker deals, settle discrepancies and hire the best contractors and designers for each project. One minute I'm multi-tasking, and the next, I'm in a one-on-one meeting with a multi-million dollar investor. My mind has to stay sharp and I must be able to pivot on a dime. But today, for the life of me, I can't stop thinking about Piper. Her smile, her body, her wit, her mind, her way with my daughter—the list goes on and on.

It's hard to believe I haven't done an internet search on her yet, but even as I shoot daggers at my full inbox, I quickly type her name into the search box and watch several sites pop up all having to do with Piper's academic success. There's a photo of her lecturing in front of a large classroom and another of her sitting on the ground in a circle with children. I skim the articles associated with each picture and am not surprised to hear how skilled she is as a teacher and psychologist.

The next link takes me to a site called _Rate My Professor_, and there's another picture of Piper writing on the Smartboard with her head twisted towards the class. My eyes are first drawn to her firm, perfect ass, but then I zoom in on her face. She has a serious expression I've only seen a handful of times when we've talked about Nicky's death. It's no surprise that she's been given a five-star rating by the students who've contributed to the site. There are comments like, "Ms. Chapman is one of the best professors I've had," and "Piper is as good a teacher as she is a looker." I don't particularly care for that one. I scroll until I find one that sounds a little different. "It would be easy to look at Ms. Chapman and underestimate her intelligence, compassion and wit. She's strikingly beautiful, but my thoughts about her physical beauty went by the wayside after the first ten minutes of her introductory lecture in my Psych 101 class. She's wicked smart, well-read and technologically savvy. She's willing to meet with any of us outside of classroom hours and even hooked me up with a summer internship. Ms. Chapman is the best teacher I've had in my life."

My mouth hangs slightly open as my shoulders hit the back of my chair. I'm not shocked that she's good at, well, _everything_, but to have such unsolicited praise is beyond what I'd expected. As I recall, she mentioned teaching a few undergraduate classes and said those semesters were brutal, but I don't remember if she said she enjoyed teaching.

"Alex," Brian Tannehill approaches my desk.

I quickly close the website and scratch my head, pretending to act casual. "Yeah?"

"Can I pull you into a meeting with the spatial design team at four?"

"Yeah, sure." I open my calendar and type it in. "See you then." I hope he didn't see what I has looking at, though he would have no idea why I was looking at Piper's educational reviews. Nevertheless, I close all the tabs on my browser and sink my teeth back into work.

* * *

Things have been going incredibly well with Piper as the nanny and as my _sort of_ girlfriend. Each day, I look forward to coming home to them, and today I decide to bring them cupcakes from a renowned bakery near my office.

"I'm home!" I set the cupcakes on the bench next to the door and hang my jacket on the coat rack. "Hello?"

"In the kitchen," Piper calls.

Usually, Harper runs to greet me and can't wait to show me something she made or tell me about her day.

"Hi." I watch my daughter coloring a dinosaur. "Everything ok in here?"

Piper gives me a concerned look, and then glances at Harper. "Will you share with your mom what happened at school?"

She shakes her head, switching from a purple to a green Crayon.

I approach the counter with a stern, "Harper, what happened?"

"I got in trouble."

I lift my eyebrows. "You got in trouble? For what?"

Her mouth scrunches to the side.

"Put the Crayons down." I close the coloring book. "And tell me what happened."

She frowns. "You're going to be mad at me."

I glance at Piper who's standing to the side with her arms folded. "I think your mom will be even more upset if you don't talk to her."

Finally, my daughter blinks up at me. "I shoved Joseph at school today, because he was being mean."

My eyebrows climb again. "You _shoved_ him?"

She nods.

"What did he do to do you?"

She fidgets on the stool. "He made fun of me for having two mommies."

Now I'm _really_ taken aback. My daughter has rendered me speechless, and I'm hoping Piper chimes in.

"I told Harper that what Joseph did wasn't nice, but instead of shoving him, she should've told the teacher," Piper replies.

"Then I'd be a tattletale," she offers in a sad voice.

I adjust my glasses and shift my weight to my other leg. Truth is, I don't blame her for shoving the kid, but I know I can't say that. "Your teacher could've helped you handle the situation. There is never a time when you should hit or shove another person. You know that, right?"

She nods.

"Did the teacher give you a timeout?"

"Yes," Harper responds. "And she wants to talk to you."

Piper eyes me. "I talked to Mrs. Anderson when I picked Harper up today, but she wants you to get in touch with her."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"It wasn't an emergency." Piper shrugs, but she looks a bit remorseful. "And I wanted Harper to be the one to tell you what happened."

I return my attention to my daughter. "What did you tell Joseph?"

"I said that just because I don't have a daddy doesn't mean I have two mommies." She toys nervously with a long strand of hair.

"Even if you had two mommies, they would love you _so_ much." I take her hand in mine. "What Joseph said was inconsiderate, and I will talk to his parents and Mrs. Anderson about that, but there is no excuse for violence, Harper. Ever."

She lowers her eyes. "Sorry."

I pull her into my arms and glance at Piper who appears to be as affected about the situation as I am.

"I want you to go your room and reflect on what you did and how you'd change your behavior if it happens again," I begin. "I'll come get you in a few minutes."

She hops off the stool, hugs my legs, and then rushes upstairs.

"Ugh," I sigh, tilting my head back. "She sure knows how to tug at my heartstrings."

Piper comes around the counter and takes my hand. "This is a tough one."

I take a step back to ensure Harper has gone upstairs. "What the fuck is it with this Joseph kid?"

"I know," she sighs. "Her teacher gave her a five minute timeout and made Harper apologize to him."

"Did she make _Joseph_ apologize?"

She nods. "Yes."

I look her in the eye. "Piper, if something like this happens again, I want to know about it immediately."

She crosses her arms. "What would you have done?"

"I would've left work and gone to Harper's pre-school!" I raise my voice.

She leans her hip against the counter. "Go on."

"And I would've talked to the teacher," I finish.

"Do you think things would've turned out differently?"

"That's not the point!" I shrug. "I'm Harper's mom, and I need to handle shit like this."

"Ok," she acquiesces. "I hope there's not a 'next time' but if there is, I'll call you right away."

"That's not what you _think_ should happen," I state rather than ask.

"You're Harper's mom. I respect whatever you want," she tries, eyes flicking away.

I push up my shirtsleeves. "Not that it'll change my mind, but why do you think it would be better if I found out about something like this _hours_ later?"

"Because of this right here—you'd lose your cool and potentially go off on the teacher," she says. "Who, by the way, did everything correctly."

"Except call me," I retort.

"It wasn't an emergency!" Piper raises her voice but she's hardly yelling. "A kid said something disrespectful and inaccurate I might add, and Harper shoved him! Stuff like this is bound to happen in her lifetime, and quite frankly, I don't blame her."

I shake my head in little bursts, turning away from her.

"Harper defended herself," she says in a much calmer voice. "And while it's never ok to put her hands on another student, do you really fault her for pushing him?"

"No," I whisper. "But she doesn't need to hear that. What she needs to hear from us is that she can solve problems with words not with violence."

"She got that message loud and clear from Mrs. Anderson, from me and now from you." Piper places a hand on my arm. "I _will_ call you in the future. But I hope you agree Mrs. Anderson and I handled the situation appropriately."

"That's not the point!" I'm still irritated. "Thank you for sorting things out with the school and for letting Harper be the one to tell me about the incident, but it doesn't change the fact that someone should've called her mother."

"Mrs. Anderson is expecting to hear from you." Piper starts putting her things in her bag. "And she's going to reach out to Joseph's parents by the end of today."

"Good." I follow her into the breakfast nook. "Are you leaving?"

"I think that's for the best."

"You don't have to go," I try, feeling my heart sink.

"Maybe I overstepped today." She zips her bag. "And you should spend some time alone with your daughter."

I reach for her. "I don't want you to leave upset."

"I'm not upset." She wraps her arms around me loosely. "I just need to figure out the balance between being a nanny and being a child psychologist."

I kiss her on the forehead. "I think you're great at both."

"Thanks." She cranes her neck and kisses my lips. "But I really do think you and Harper should spend some time together tonight—just the two of you."

"Alright." I shrug. "I guess I'll see you some time this weekend."

"Sounds good." Piper squeezes me, and then straps her bag over her shoulder. "Have a good night."

I walk her to the door, kissing her a final time and notice the abandoned cupcakes on the bench.

"Harper?"

Seconds later, she peeks over the banister.

"Are you ready to come talk to me?" I put my hands on my hips.

"Is Piper still here?"

"She just left." I grab the pastry box. "Are the two of you ok after what happened today?"

She nods. "She didn't get mad at me like you are."

"I'm not mad at you, kiddo." I put my hand on her back and escort her to the sofa. "I just want to make sure you handle things with words not with violence."

"Joseph was making fun of me," she admits with downcast eyes.

"That wasn't nice of him, and I'm going to talk to his parents about what he said to you."

"I told him I didn't even _have_ two mommies."

"Why would he think you did?" I'm prepared for her to mention Piper.

She rubs her eyes. "I told the class about my Original Mommy and my Forever Mommy."

"Oh." This isn't even about me and _Piper_? It's about me and _Nicky_?

"And at recess, he made kissing faces at me and shook his booty, saying my mommy is gay."

God, I wish Piper was here to help me out of this one. "Well, I _am_ gay, but your Original Mommy and I weren't a couple," I try. "She was my best friend, and when she went to heaven, I became your Forever Mom."

"I know that."

"And there's nothing wrong with being gay," I continue. "Love is love no matter who's on the other end of your affection."

She nods.

"If anyone makes fun of you for that or anything else in the future, you tell an adult." I lift her chin. "You never hit or shove someone."

"Ok."

I pull her into a tight embrace. "I love you, kiddo."

"I love you, too."

I reach for the white box on the coffee table. "I brought cupcakes home for you."

She opens it. "Can I have the pink one?"

"Yeah." I smile.

"Let's save the blue one for Piper." She takes a bite. "That's her favorite color."

I'm touched that she's so thoughtful. "Ok."

I encourage Harper to draw something for Joseph, and she spends a solid 30 minutes on that and the next half hour drawing a bouquet of flowers for me. I search the web for a video about celebrating different kinds of love and come up with an old _Skidamarink_ video that I watch with her.

"Just like you said, mommy," she announces at the end. "Love is love."

When it's time for Harper to go to sleep, I read a book to her in bed about a little girl who has a pet rat and gets ridiculed by her friends for not having a more traditional pet like a cat or dog. I know on some deeper level Harper understands what I'm doing, but the only question she asks before falling asleep is, "Are you saying I can have a pet rat?"

"Uh, no." I kiss her on the nose and crawl out of bed. "Sleep well."

I close her door and pad downstairs in search of my cell phone.

"Hi," Piper answers.

"Hey. I just put Harper down." I plop onto the sofa. "Are you still upset with me?"

"No, and I owe you an apology," she says in a quiet voice. "I should've called you as soon as I found out what Harper did."

"Yes, you should have, but I shouldn't have blown up at you like that." I sigh. "There has to be a rational reason why you didn't call."

"It doesn't matter," she replies.

"No, tell me—really. You're an intelligent woman who cares about my daughter. I know whatever your reasons were for not calling me have to be earnest."

"It might sound like excuses." I hear what sounds like wine being poured into a glass.

"Please."

"I already mentioned that I didn't think it was an emergency," Piper begins. "She didn't hit the boy or make him cry. She pushed him. I'm not saying it was right, but it was hardly violent. Harper didn't get sent to the principal's office—she served a five minute timeout—the same punishment students in her class get if they chew gum or don't pick up their toys after playtime. That in and of itself told me it wasn't a huge ordeal."

I allow her to continue.

"Also, research shows that when a child gets to tell her parents about something bad that happened, it can create an even greater bond and more trust between them. I didn't want to take that away from your daughter." She pauses. "In my opinion, Harper needed to own what she did and the only way for her to truly do that was to admit it to you herself."

I run a hand through my hair. "I get it."

"I'm only the nanny though, so I understand why you'd want to be told about such an incident right away."

"You're not _only_ Harper's nanny." I walk into the kitchen. "You're my girlfriend!"

"Pseudo-girlfriend," she corrects.

"You're my _girlfriend_," I state firmly. "I know we're afraid to call each other that because not enough time has passed, but it's bullshit. You mean far more to me than a friend or a nanny, and I want to call you my fucking girlfriend."

"Are you using the word 'fucking' as a modifier or as a description of what you're doing to me." I can hear her smirking.

That warrants a smile of my own. "Both."

"I want to be your girlfriend." Her voice sobers. "And I'm sorry for the way I handled things today."

"Thank you." I open a bottle of beer. "And thanks for explaining why you did what you did. It makes sense, but I still want you to call me if Harper is ever in trouble at school."

"Promise."

"Wait until I tell you this." I return to the sofa, shifting gears a bit. "This whole time, I thought Joseph was talking about Harper's two mommies being me and you."

"Wasn't he?"

"Turns out, Harper had shared the story of her Original Mommy and her Forever Mommy with the class, and Joseph came to the conclusion that Nicky and I were her lesbian parents."

"So, it wasn't even about me and you?"

I shake my head. "No."

"Wow, ok. That's…strange." She pauses. "It doesn't change the fact you _are_ gay."

"I said as much to Harper," I explain. "Then I showed her a video about different kinds of love and read her that book about the girl with the pet rat."

Piper snorts. "Nothing like shoving _same love_ down her throat."

"I wouldn't say I went that far," I reply with a chuckle. "But I think she got the picture that love is love."

"I'm glad to hear that."

I take a sip of beer and picture her sipping her wine.

"So, we're good?"

"Yeah."

"Ok. I'm going to e-mail Mrs. Anderson and see when I might be able to talk to her and Joseph's parents about this whole thing."

"Good idea. I need to put in another hour of research before turning in."

"Sleep well."

"You, too."


	8. Chapter 8

The earliest meeting we could schedule with Harper's teacher and Joseph's parents was two days after the event, so on a rainy Friday morning, I arrive at the pre-school only a few minutes late.

"Hi, I'm Alex Vause. I'm here to meet with Mrs. Anderson." I shake the raindrops off my jacket.

"Great. They're expecting you." The receptionist smiles. "After you sign in, you'll go down that hallway and enter the second office on your right. The door should be open."

"Thank you." I write my name on the clipboard and accept the printed nametag from the receptionist. I step into the office and notice two people already inside.

I've only met Mrs. Anderson twice—once when Harper and I toured the pre-school and again on the first day of school. She's a short, middle-aged woman with curly brown hair.

"Hi, I'm Peggy Anderson, Harper's teacher."

"Alex Vause." I shake her hand. "Nice to see you again."

"I'm Joseph's dad, Kurt Williams." The man doesn't stand, but he offers a warm smile. He's dressed far more casually than me or Mrs. Anderson, and I wonder if he's a stay-at-home father.

"Steve Lattimore, the director of the pre-school, might join us in a few minutes, but he was called into a last-minute meeting," Mrs. Anderson explains. "I thought we'd begin by recapping what happened earlier this week." She relays the story that Harper already told me, and nothing comes as a surprise. Kurt nods along with me, so I assume we're all in agreement about what transpired.

"My son should have never made fun of Harper for having two moms," he begins. "This came completely out of left field."

It's a relief to hear him say that, because I came here today with guns blazing, ready to verbally kick their asses if it came to that.

"My daughter shouldn't have shoved your son," I say. "I know she already apologized, but I can assure you, this was a one-time thing. It won't happen again."

The door swings open and an attractive black man in a tailored suit and shiny wingtips breezes in. "Sorry I'm late." He adjusts his tie and sits in the chair next to Kurt.

I've only met Mr. Lattimore, the pre-school director, at an information session two years ago, but his photo is always on the front page of the school's monthly newsletter. The man in the room with us is _definitely_ not Steve Lattimore.

Kurt gives the man a look. "I thought you couldn't make it."

"Quincy Williams," he says, ignoring Kurt's statement. "Joseph's father."

My head flings back, and I'm sure everyone in the room can see the shock on my face. I glance from Quincy to Kurt and back again. "I don't understand…"

He motions a finger between him and Kurt. "We're his dads."

"I'm sorry, what?" I can't help the disbelieving chuckle that escapes.

"Which is why we were so shocked when we heard Joseph made fun of Harper for having two moms," Kurt adds, seemingly oblivious to the fact I'm still trying to wrap my head around this news.

"You're…wow." I'm at a loss for words. "Ok."

"Perhaps we've gone a little too far in helping our son understand that he should feel _empowered_ by having two men as his fathers," Quincy says. "Maybe he took that to mean anyone with a different set of parents is inferior. That was certainly not our intention."

"Has he commented on heterosexual couples before?" Mrs. Anderson asks.

"No," Kurt replies. "He has a _Same Love_ t-shirt for God's sake! He wears it all the time. And we have good friends who are lesbians."

"Do they have children?" she follows up.

Quincy shakes his head. "No."

I've yet to find my voice after the huge revelation, but I'm paying close attention to the conversation.

"The night when everything went down at school, we had a long talk with Joseph," Quincy continues. "We explained that families are made up of all sorts of people—mixed race, different religious beliefs, same sex, etc."

"He seemed to understand what we were getting at and apologized to us for making Harper feel bad," Kurt adds. "We're going to continue working with him on acceptance and celebrating differences."

"Harper and Joseph have always gotten along at school. They were kind of stand-offish the day after the event, but yesterday, everything was back to normal," Mrs. Anderson responds. "One suggestion I might offer is to have a few of playdates when all of you are present to sort of normalize same sex relationships for both children."

"You're assuming I'm gay?" I finally chime in. "And that I have a partner?"

"Sorry," Kurt replies embarrassedly. "I guess we should've done some fact checking of our own."

Quincy creases his brows. "I thought this whole thing stemmed from Harper telling the class she had an Original Mommy and a Forever Mommy?"

"She does." With as few details as possible, I explain Nicky's role in my life and how it came to be that I'm now raising Harper.

"Joseph left out the whole Nicky thing when he told us what happened," Kurt says, glancing at Quincy. "We just assumed you had a same sex partner and things didn't work out, so you referred to her as Original Mommy."

"Let me be clear." I lean forward. "I _am_ gay, and I have a partner…albeit a relatively _new_ one, but it sounds like the whole Original Mom comment is what threw everyone off, including Joseph."

Everyone nods.

"He jumped to conclusions _and_ made fun of Harper," the teacher says. "It didn't give her the right to shove him, but it sounds like you've all had serious discussions with your children about different family structures." She turns to me. "And I'm assuming you spoke with Harper about using words instead of violence?"

"I have." I nod. "She knows that she should've talked to an adult rather than putting her hands on another student." I focus my attention back on the men. "If you think few playdates when all of the adults are around would be a good idea, I'm happy to be the first to host."

Quincy smiles. "We'd love that."

"Nothing like a room full of queers to teach our kids that _love is love_," Kurt adds with a chuckle.

I laugh along with him.

"Then it's settled." Mrs. Anderson stands. "Thank you all for taking time out of your busy day to meet about this issue. Please let me know if I can do anything."

We all shake hands and agree to be in touch soon, and I leave the school shaking my head and grinning at this latest turn of events.

* * *

I'm no sooner out the door before calling Piper.

"How did the meeting go?" she whispers. "Hang on, I'm in the library. Let me step outside."

"Are you ready for _this_?" I say without waiting.

"What?" she whispers again.

"Joseph has two dads!" I gesture with my hands even though Piper can't see me. "In what world does a kid make fun of his classmate about having two moms when _he has two fucking dads_?!"

"You have to be kidding." Her voice gets a little louder, and I assume she's in the lobby or outside.

"I couldn't make this shit up!" I shake my head. "I was dumbfounded."

"This whole thing gets stranger by the day."

"Tell me about it." I walk down the steps to the Subway. "They apologized for Joseph's behavior and talked with him about respecting all types of families."

"They weren't upset with you?"

"No. I mean, they didn't appreciate my daughter shoving their kid, but we all seem to be on the same page." I walk through the turnstile. "Mrs. Anderson suggested that we have a playdate when the four of us are around."

"The _four_ of us?"

As the words spill out of my mouth, I realize I might've gone too far. "I told them I have a partner."

"I'm flattered you told them about us," she replies. "But aren't you concerned they might say something to their son before Harper knows we're a couple?"

"Fuck." I stop in my tracks and reflect on the conversation I just had with the two dads. "I didn't even think about that…Wait…Come to think of it, I said I have a _partner_, but I didn't suggest that you'd be at the playdates. I _want_ you to be there, but you're right about the whole partner thing before Harper knows about our relationship."

"It's probably worth having a conversation with the dads."

The R train rolls into the station, and I pick up my pace. "I'll call and ask them to keep everything under wraps for now."

"Good idea."

"I'm going to lose reception in about three minutes." I hop into the car. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

"Ok. Bye."

* * *

I've yet to meet Hilda's baby, so on Saturday I take Harper to greet little Anna. As expected, Harper is totally enamored by the precious baby girl and feels honored to hold her. While she's playing mom, I have a chance to speak with Hilda.

"Have you enjoyed your time off?"

Hilda folds a pink onesie. "I have."

"Only two weeks until you return to work." I hope my tone doesn't sound as probing as it feels when the words come out.

"I was meaning to call you about that." She looks me in the eye. "I was hoping to have another week or two off. Anna doesn't sleep for more than a couple hours at a time, and I'm exhausted. I thought she'd be more like her older brother who started sleeping four or five hours at night when he was her age. No such luck."

I'm a bit surprised that she's asking for more time off, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't please me if for no other reason than buying time. "That's not a problem at all. Why don't you take an extra two weeks?"

"Thank you so much." Her shoulders relax. "I was worried for nothing."

I touch her arm. "You never have to worry about asking me anything."

"Thanks." She issues a gracious smile. "How's the substitute nanny working out?"

"She's good," I admit. "And cute," I whisper.

"Ahh…" Hilda makes a sound like she's uncovered a secret. "Do I detect a little crush?"

I eye Harper, making sure she's not eavesdropping, before replying. "You could say that." A warm feeling crawls up my neck, and I know it won't be long before a blush settles on my cheeks.

She leans forward conspiratorially. "Has something happened?"

I wasn't prepared to have this discussion with anyone let alone Hilda, but I'm knee-deep in it so I proceed. "I guess you could say we're, um…we're dating."

Her eyebrows spike. "Dating?"

"Shh," I say, noticing that her high-pitched question has captured my daughter's interest. "I haven't told anyone about it yet. It's all really new."

She abandons folding clothes and concentrates on me. "Harper doesn't know?"

"I don't know what?" she asks.

"Nothing, sweetie," Hilda offers. "We're talking about your mommy's job."

"That's boring." She returns to singing a made-up song to the baby.

"I haven't talked to her yet," My eyes dart from Harper back to Hilda. "We wanted to wait to see how things develop between us. Piper, that's the nanny's name, says I should wait until we can call ourselves _significant others_."

"If that's where it's headed," Hilda covers my hand with hers. "I'm happy for you."

The blush has definitely reached my cheeks and they feel warm. "I think it is."

It doesn't take long for her to put two and two together. "If things move in that direction, would you want to keep her on as the nanny?"

"That's where it gets a little complicated." I try reading her expression, and I don't detect any worry or sadness. "It would be weird for me to pay Piper to be Harper's nanny if we're in a relationship."

She nods.

"So if Piper _was_ to stay, she'd probably move in." It's the first time I've said those words aloud, and it's freeing but also a bit frightening. Hell, Piper doesn't even know I've been contemplating cohabitation.

"That's a big step," Hilda offers.

"We're not there yet," I quickly add. "But I don't think it'll be long before we know if that's where this is headed."

"To be honest, I'm not ready to go back to work yet," she says followed by a long exhale. "Two more weeks off is very generous of you, but I don't know if it'll be enough. I also haven't figured out childcare for Anna when I return."

"I thought the plan was to bring her with you when you're with Harper."

"Easier said than done." She lets out a light laugh. "Besides, I don't know how well Harper would adjust to not having my full attention."

"Why don't we both take a few days to think about it, and then we can talk mid-week?" I glance at my daughter who seems to be nodding off while slowly rocking in the chair. "And no matter what happens, no hard feelings."

She squeezes my hand. "Definitely not."

I stand and tap Harper on the shoulder. "We have to leave now. It's time for Anna's nap and maybe one of your own."

Hilda takes the baby from her.

"I'm not tired," my daughter complains, twisting her little fists in her eyes.

"Ok, but we still have to go."

She stands. "Bye, Hilda."

"It was good seeing you." She bends over to kiss the top of Harper's head. "I can't wait for you to get older so you can babysit Anna."

Harper's face lights up. "Me, too."

We make our way back home in the car, and Harper is fast asleep by the time we get there.

I carry Harper to her bed, which I haven't done in a long time, and then place a call to Piper.

"Are you busy?" I still get a fluttery feeling when I talk to her. My heart jumps into my throat and I can't help smiling.

"I could use a break," she sighs, and I imagine her stretching. "I've been crunching numbers for the past three hours."

"You've changed your doctoral degree to accounting?" I quip.

"Ha, ha." I hear a chair scrape against the ground. "There's a lot of statistical data I need for my dissertation. I was just comparing health literacy rates among pre-teens with Autism from five different ethnic groups."

I pour a glass of lemonade. "Sounds like fun."

"So much fun." Her tone indicates she's being facetious. "How was your visit with Hilda?"

"We just got back, and I put Harper down for a nap." I walk to the living room. "The baby is adorable."

"There's nothing like holding a newborn."

"Hilda asked to have a couple more weeks off."

"Oh." I can almost hear her stop in her tracks and picture her eyebrows rising. "Did you agree to that?"

"We're going to talk again mid-week." I sit on the sofa and pause, wondering if I should tell her the full conversation or just the salient points. "I told her about us."

"As in the _girlfriends_ 'us' or as in the _I'm the fill-in nanny_ 'us'?"

"Both." There's a smirk that's begging to surface, but until I can get a better sense of Piper's reaction, I keep it at bay. "She asked how things were going with you, and I told her I thought you were cute. Things progressed from there."

"What do you mean, _progressed_?"

I still can't detect her tone, so I proceed with caution. "I told her we're…dating."

Silence descends upon us, and just as I'm about to ask if she's still on the line, she speaks. "You told her we're dating?" And there it is—she's grinning.

"Your parroting skills are excellent," I reply through a smile of my own.

"I didn't expect you to be so…forthcoming," she says.

"It's not like we're doing anything wrong," I begin, crossing my legs. "And I don't see the need to hide our relationship from anyone but Harper for the time being."

"I agree," she responds. "What was her reaction?"

"She said she was happy for me." It does make me more than a little relieved to know Hilda isn't upset. "And as expected, she wondered what that meant for her job."

"What _does_ it mean for her job?"

"The jury is still out on that," I say. "She's not sure if she wants to return to work full-time. You're both great nannies, but I don't want to sleep with Hilda."

"Good to know," she says.

"The part I have to reconcile with myself is if you continue helping out with Harper and we keep…_dating_…is it going to feel awkward that I'm paying you?"

"Didn't we have this discussion a week ago?"

"It's still not sitting right with me." I take another sip of lemonade.

"Our relationship is important to me, but I still have to consider how I'm going to pay the bills."

I pad back to the kitchen in search of something to eat. "I know." I don't want to continue this conversation on the phone, so I make an offer. "I'm having lunch with my mom tomorrow, but maybe we can see each other afterwards."

"Who's going to watch Harper?"

I take out some whole wheat bread and sliced turkey. "Morningside Nannies offers a babysitting service. I'll call them."

"Ok, then it's a date," she replies. "I better get back to number crunching."

"You make it sound so hot," I tease, even though there's nothing really hot about that. On second thought, picturing Piper in glasses with her hair in a bun secured with a pencil and a calculator does sound oddly erotic.

"Bye, Alex."

"Bye, babe." I hang up, realizing that's the first time I've called her that.

No sooner do I hang up when my phone buzzes: it's text message from Piper. _Babe?_

_You heard me_.

_Come to my place tomorrow. We can talk…after_.

_After what?_ I type, teasing her.

_If you have to ask_…

_I don't._

* * *

My daughter and I spend the rest of the day together, drawing, coloring, using her Play-Doh Fun Factory, and giving each other manicures. I hate to admit, but Harper painted my nails better than I painted hers. After bath time, I read the lighthouse book to her in bed. Since our return from Newport, it's the only book she wants me to read at night, though I still try to mix it up a bit.

"Mommy?" She looks up at me with curious eyes. "When is Hilda coming back?"

"I don't know." I don't want to disappoint her, but I also want to be honest. "She might want to spend a few more weeks at home with Anna."

"I liked holding the baby." Harper makes a cradling motion with her arms. "She's so tiny."

I brush wavy hair out of her face. "She is."

She blinks a few times and her mouth tics. I know that look—she's thinking about how to phrase something. "I don't want Piper to leave."

While I try to conceal my surprise, thankful that my head is behind and above hers, Harper continues. "I like Hilda, but she's not as fun as Piper."

I close the lighthouse book so we can focus solely on the conversation. "It's ok to feel like that."

Her eyes are downcast. "I don't want to be mean to Hilda."

"You're not being mean." I place my hand on her cheek and turn her head to face me. "Piper _is_ a lot of fun. I can see why you like having her around."

Harper nods. "She lets me help her with cooking and she likes playing outside…She smells good, too."

_Don't I know it_. "She does."

My daughter looks me square in the eye. "But I don't want to hurt Hilda's feelings."

How does my four-and-a-half-year-old know about hurting people's feelings? Is she intuitive or is that something they've discussed at school? In any case, I'm proud of how empathetic she is.

"If you want Piper to be your permanent nanny, I think we can make that work," I begin. "And Hilda wants to take care of you, but she also has to care for her newborn baby. She would probably like to spend more time with Anna and watch her grow up to be a big girl like you."

A proud smile crosses her face. "I'm a big girl."

"I know you are." I kiss her hairline. "But even big girls need to get their sleep." I pull the covers over her body. "We can talk more about this tomorrow if you want."

"Can we have waffles in the morning?" And just like that, what was probably an uncomfortable moment for Harper is over.

"You bet. Good night, kiddo."

"Night, mommy."

As I lie in bed that night, I reflect on my conversation with Harper. I knew she enjoyed having Piper as her nanny, but I didn't expect her to voice it. I'm proud of her for being so thoughtful and caring about how Hilda might feel if she no longer gets to take care of her. That leaves me in an interesting and somewhat awkward position. _Of course_ I want Piper to stick around, and if I'm being honest with myself, I want her to be with us permanently. It's ludicrous to think we're ready to live together, but I can't fathom paying Piper when we're in a relationship. Perhaps she could sleep in the small room we've used for storage until we're ready to tell Harper we're together. I don't know where I'd move all the stuff in there now, but it's a thought.

Who am I kidding? If Piper lives here, there's no way she's sleeping anywhere but with me.

* * *

I meet my mom at her apartment in New Rochelle and am happy to see she made my favorite childhood meal: chicken pot pie.

"Hiya, hon." She kisses my cheek. "I thought I'd give you a treat."

I take a big whiff of the air that smells like baked pastry dough and roasted chicken. "I don't need to see it to know what you've made."

"Hope you brought your appetite."

As we eat a scrumptious lunch, we talk about the weather, the beginning of fall & changing leaves, and how Harper's doing in pre-school. She fills me in on a change of ownership at the restaurant where she waits tables and asks for my opinion about switching jobs. It's rare that I get to talk to my mom without distractions, and it feels good to not be under any pressure to get Harper down for a nap or to worry that my mom has to leave for work any minute. I help her clean the dishes and put away the leftovers that she insists I take, and then we retreat to her modest living room.

"I wanted to fill you in on some things," I begin with a bit of hesitation. If I wait to inform her about my relationship with Piper, things could go sideways. I don't want to put either of us in an awkward position, so I blurt it out. "I'm dating someone."

She sits across from me with a wide grin. "I had a hunch."

"It's someone you know…well, sort of." I let out a short, shaky breath. "It's Harper's nanny—Piper."

"Oh?" Her eyes widen and I can tell she's trying not to smirk. "I would've never guessed." She sits back. "Is Harper ok with it?"

"She doesn't know." I adjust my glasses and glance away briefly. "And I'm not sure I'm ready to talk to her yet."

"So _that's_ what's been on your mind," she says as if she has just solved a puzzle. "How did this happen?"

I fill her in on seeing Piper on the Subway and our encounter at Zabar's as well as the total shock when she showed up on my doorstep to fill in for Hilda.

"We've grown closer over the past month, and I _really_ like her, mom." It's the first time I've admitted that aloud. "She's someone I could see myself with…permanently."

"Wow." Her expression matches the shock in her voice. "I'm happy for you, hon."

"Thanks." I smile, relieved that I've finally shared the news with her. "Now the question is how do I proceed with the nanny situation?"

"Have you talked to Harper about Hilda coming back?"

I nod. "I knew instantly that she'd like Piper, but last night as I was tucking her in, she told me she liked Piper more than Hilda."

"Huh."

"She doesn't want to hurt Hilda's feelings, but for her to be so honest with me…" I shake my head. "That says a lot."

She crosses her legs. "It does."

"Yesterday I took her to see Hilda and her baby, and we had a chance to talk. Hilda asked for another week or two off and as we were talking, she questioned if she would ever be ready to come back to work." I toy with the fringe on a throw pillow. "I told Hilda about my relationship with Piper, and it was like relief washed over her face—like it was a perfect situation for both of us. We're going to talk mid-week to see where we land on this."

"What do _you_ want?"

"I want my daughter to be happy." I lift my shoulders. "And_ I_ want to be happy, too."

"It sounds like both of you want Piper in your life," she states as if it was the easiest answer in the world.

"Yeah." Until Harper confirmed it last night, I didn't know if we were on the same page. "But don't you think it would be weird if I was paying Piper to watch Harper while we're dating?"

She goes to the kitchen and returns with both glasses of iced tea. "It might be a little weird at first, but you're paying the nanny agency, right?"

"Yes." I take a sip.

She shrugs. "Then what's the big deal?"

"Piper's subletting a place and the owner is coming back in two weeks." I'm finally putting this out in the open, which I haven't been able to do since this whole situation cropped up. "She's going to need a place to live."

"That's not your problem."

"It's not my problem, no," I begin, looking at her. "But I can't help wanting her to live with us."

My statement takes my mom aback. She juts her chin back and lowers her glass of iced tea. "Oh."

"I know it seems it's too soon." I reprimand myself. "But I can't help it." I get to my feet and pace in the small living room. "She's just…joyful and smart and funny…" I trail off. "And watching her with Harper—she's attentive and caring."

"And not bad looking either," my mom adds.

I chuckle. "No." I recover from that brief moment of levity and put my hands on my hips. "Am I being selfish? Is this way too fucking premature?"

"You're not being selfish," she says with conviction. "That much I know. And it sounds like it's a bit soon to talk about living together, but isn't that what you lesbians do? The whole U-Haul thing?"

I get a good laugh out of that and appreciate her humor. "Yes, but if I ask her to move in with us, that means I have to tell Harper about our relationship."

"What's wrong with that?" She shrugs. "You already said she adores Piper."

Could it be that simple—that my daughter enjoys spending time with Piper as much (though very differently) as I do, and this news would be no big deal to her? Have I been overthinking the whole situation?

"Harper might be thrilled to hear that you're a couple."

I spin around, running a hand through my hair. "What if we break up? I'd have to find another nanny, which would be the third one for Harper, and I'd be heart broken. It would be a total fucking mess."

My mom stands across from me, placing a hand on my arm. "If you go through life wondering when the other shoe's gonna drop, you'll never be happy."

I suck my lips in and nod.

"Take a chance on this, Al." She lifts her palms in the air. "The worst that could happen is you break up and have to hire another nanny, but maybe by that point Hilda would want to come back. The best case is you and Harper will _both_ be happy."

A smile slowly crawls across my face. "That would be nice."

"You've always trusted your instincts." She squeezes my arm. "And they've always been right. Don't go back on that now."

I nod, chewing on my inner lip. "You're right."

My mom pulls me into a hug. "I'm happy for you, kiddo."

"Thank you, mom." My face feels like it could crack open with joy. "I'm the happiest I've been in a long, long time."

We say our goodbyes, and I drive straight to Piper's apartment with a huge smile on my face. I can't wait to tell her.


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: This chapter is rated Mature. I think there are only two chapters left until the end of this story; I just haven't set the chapters in stone yet. Thanks as always for reading and reviewing!

* * *

"Perfect timing." Piper answers the door a little out of breath. "I just got back from a run."

She's wearing black leggings and a long sleeved shirt that's hanging off one shoulder, revealing the thin, red strap of her sports bra. Her hair is in a messy ponytail and her cheeks are flushed. She's never looked better.

"I can see that." I step into her personal space, kissing her soundly.

Her hands rest on my hips. "How'd it go with your mom?"

"Good." I raise one hand to cup the spot where her shoulder meets her neck and angle my head to kiss her even deeper.

Piper pulls back, a hint of amusement on her face. "Do you want to talk first or…"

"What does it look like?" My lips return to her mouth and I walk us inside without breaking the kiss. I kick the door shut with my foot only a little startled when it slams shut.

"I just ran three miles," she says between kisses, yet her hands are already bunching up the hem of my shirt. "I need to shower."

I squeeze her hip. "No, you don't."

She smells like orange blossoms through the sweat, so I lick her flushed skin to see if she tastes that way. I smile against her sweat-stained skin, not at all surprised that she tastes salty. Nevertheless, I'm turned on.

Piper shudders slightly when my tongue darts out on that particularly sensitive spot just below her ear. She makes a rumbling sound that's all instinct and anticipation, and even though I know she wasn't expecting sex the moment I walked inside, her body eagerly adjusts as her hips roll forward seeking friction. She drops the material of my shirt in favor of trailing her fingertips up my sides and over to my ribcage where her fingernails dig into my skin like she's found something to hold on to.

I continue backing her up until we run into a wall, and we stop for a moment to laugh, though the lust in her eyes are mismatched by the sound of her laughter. I resume kissing her neck, across her jawline and ultimately her mouth as she groans into it. Piper's left hand tangles in my hair while the other returns to my waist.

"Shower," she pants, tugging my shirt until I follow her.

She could be leading me to a death chamber, and I'd gladly follow. I'm thankful that we're about as far from a death chamber as we could get unless you'd count dying by sexual stimulation part of that scenario.

Piper rips her shirt over her head, and I follow her motions with my own. She trips as she tries pulling off her leggings, and I catch her by the elbow and steady her. Our eyes lock and the moment of levity is gone as she cranes her neck and presses her lips against mine in a much needier, deeper kiss. We somehow manage to rid ourselves of every last stitch of clothing before stepping under the spray of hot water. I kiss the goosebumps on her shoulder until they disappear, and then snake a hand between her inner thighs. It isn't a surprise to hear her moan, but the sound is primal, making the throbbing sensation between my legs that much stronger.

Piper puts me out of my misery by trailing her index finger up and down my slit, and we're simultaneously rubbing each other with a give and take rhythm enough to make my head fall back with pleasure. My eyes slam shut as I concentrate on massaging her clit and trying not to let the feeling between my legs overtake me just yet. I want her to come first.

I dip my head lower, taking one of her perfectly pink and erect nipples into my mouth, and I'm rewarded with another moan. There's a long lip in the tub perfect for what I'm about to do to Piper, so I sit on it and pull her closer by wrapping my arms around her thighs. She reaches for the wall behind me, arms outstretched, and leans over until her pussy is right in front of my mouth. I tease her by licking only the outer lips for a few seconds, but she doesn't seem to be in the mood for teasing as she thrusts her hips forward. One of her hands lands on the back of my head, showing me what she wants, so I oblige. My mouth greedily licks her, trailing my tongue up and down and swallowing every third pass. I insert two fingers into her opening, and I know this will end soon.

She bucks hard against my face, head back and mouth slightly open as unintelligible words escape. Her knees buckle, so I hold her up as best I can on the slippery surface. My fingers don't stop twisting inside of her until I'm positive her orgasm is over, and then I pull them out and shove them into my mouth hopeful that the water hasn't completely washed away her juices.

Piper smiles down at me, and judging by the serenity on her face, she's pleased with how things transpired. "You're good." Before I know it, she's on her knees between my legs, returning the favor. My back hits the tile behind me and I raise one leg to rest on the lip of the bench. She spreads me open a little more and dives in tongue first. I'm not shocked when an orgasm roars through me a few minutes later.

"_You're_ good," I repeat, smiling down at her.

We kiss leisurely until the water starts getting colder. That's her signal to wash up, and I help her clean her back and rinse shampoo out of her hair.

"Not that I'm complaining." She hands me a towel. "But I wasn't expecting that."

I give her a lopsided grin. "What's fun about _expected_ sex?"

"If it ends with an orgasm, I'd say _everything_."

I wring out my hair. "You'd rather have planned sex than spontaneous?"

"I'd welcome any kind of sex with you." She props one leg on the bathroom counter, dragging her towel over it, and I'm drawn to every inch of her toned limb.

I swallow the renewed desire in my throat, and my eyes roam up her naked body. I feel my lips and an eyebrow tugging upwards.

She gives me a look. "Seriously, Al?"

"What can I say?" I sweep her hair off her shoulder and kiss her warm, damp skin. "You turn me on."

"You're like a pre-pubescent boy," she giggles, placing a chaste kiss on the side of my mouth.

"Gross. I didn't need that mental picture." I return to drying off and angle my body so that I can't see her so as not to be tempted to ravish her all over again.

"Tell me about your visit with your mom." Piper wraps a towel around her body as if she knows what a distraction her nakedness is to me.

I pull on my shirt. "She's happy for me…for us."

"That's good." Piper gives me one of her earnest smiles and seems relieved. "What does she think about the nanny situation?"

"She wants what's best for Harper." I step into my jeans. "And what's best for me."

She shrugs into a faded Smith College t-shirt. "What's that?"

I step closer, fingertips gliding across her cheek until they snarl in her wet hair. "You." My eyes lock with deep blue ones, and I search to see if she gets the _fullness_ of what I mean with a simple word.

She lifts one hand, placing it lightly on the column of my neck, fingers wrapping around the back and thumb caressing a pulse point.

I bring my left hand to her face matching the position of my right one. "You're what's best for me and my daughter."

I'm not sure who closes the distance between us, but with eyes shut and mouths slightly open, my lips find hers and my body hums with excitement not about sex, but about the meaning of it all. She angles her head, slipping her tongue in my mouth without hesitation and skirting her hand around my neck, pulling me closer. It's an ardent kiss, but it's not filled with desire; rather, it's about appreciation, respect and understanding. It's a _decisive_ kiss.

"I know this is probably too soon," I begin, nipping at her lower lip. "Strike that, it's _totally_ too soon. But I want you to move in with me."

Piper juts her chin back, mouth abandoning mine like she wasn't expecting such a request. "Move in?"

"Sorry, it was definitely too soon." I glance to the side upset with myself for pushing too far. "I should've—"

"It's not that," she interrupts, shaking her head and lowering her hand to my shoulder. "I mean, yes, it's soon, but…I want that—to move in with you."

Now I'm the one taken aback. "You do?"

"_Yes_," comes out as a soft laugh more than a word. And there's that smile—the one that seems reserved only for me; the one I could drown in.

We kiss again, this time without tongue—just hard and fast like an exclamation point at the end of a sentence. I stare at her, swallowing the lump in my throat leftover from when I thought this was all going to go to hell with a misunderstanding about where we are in our relationship.

"I want to call you my significant other." My mouth twitches and I can feel the vein in my neck pulsing. "Not necessarily in public or whatever, I just mean as something to describe what you meat to me."

She nods, smile still firmly in place like the sun at high noon. "I know what you mean."

I tuck a strand of wet hair behind her ear. "And I'm ready to talk to my daughter about this…about us."

Piper brings my hand to her mouth, kissing the back of it and then pressing it to her chest.

"I might need some pointers." I smile

"I might be able to help," she offers flippantly, smile morphing into a proud smirk.

I kiss her once more before we hastily finish putting our clothing on and move into the living room.

Over a glass of wine, Piper fills me in on signs to look for when I talk to Harper to make sure she understands and feels like an important part of the equation. I ask probing questions, and she calls on her experience in child psychology to answer them fully. We agree that next Saturday would be the best time for me to have the conversation with Harper so that we can spend time together and I can show her that nothing will change between the two of us. If it _does_, it would only be for the better.

* * *

Although I'm a little nervous about my impending conversation with Hilda, I know I've made the right decision. I only hope she has come to the same conclusion and wants to spend more time at home with her newborn baby.

"It was so nice seeing you and Harper this weekend," she begins. "Is it possible that Harper has grown a few inches in such a short amount of time?"

I laugh into the receiver. "She's getting bigger, and sassier, I should add, every day."

There's a short pause and it seems we're both a bit anxious about who speaks next. I don't have long to wait before Hilda fills the dead air. "Erik and I had a long conversation about what I should do with regards to work," she begins. "And we agree that it's best if I take at least a few months off to care for Anna."

I try not letting a sigh of relief escape my lips, but I feel the weight lifted. "I get it."

"He's going to pick up an extra shift at work, so we should be able to make ends meet," she continues. "And we'll reassess if I need to go back to work after the start of the year."

"It won't be the same without you," I reply. "But I'm glad you're making the best decision for your family."

I can almost hear her nod through the phone. "Are you sure you're ok with it?"

"Positive." I smile even though she can't see me. "Piper and I are going to take a stab at living together in a couple weeks. I know it's a big move, but I can't imagine being any more ready six weeks or six months from now." I let out a weightless breath. "I guess when you know, you know."

She chuckles. "I'm so glad to hear that. I hope you'll still call me if you need a baby sitter. I should be able to get away for a few hours in the evening, but mornings would be tough."

"You'll be my first call."

"Maybe you and Harper can visit us again soon and bring Piper along."

My chest is full of pride. "I'd like that."

"Good. Please stay in touch."

"We will." I smile again. "Enjoy your time with Anna."

"Thank you so much."

I end the call with a feeling of relief. Now that the conversation with Hilda is over, I can concentrate on how and when to talk to my daughter.

* * *

The week goes well enough at work and at home. Piper and I try controlling our googly eyes when Harper's in the room, but it's getting more difficult by the day. I want to hold her and kiss her and tell her I love her, but that won't happen, at least in front of my daughter, until after our talk. Piper and I haven't said those three little words other than when we talked about _falling_ in love. I can say with confidence I'm_ in love_ with her as in an active choice—both a decision and a feeling.

On Saturday morning, I make pancakes and hope to garner my daughter's attention.

"What's special about today, mommy?" She knows I only make pancakes on special occasions. There's no pulling the wool over her eyes.

My stomach flutters at what I'm about to confess, but I know I just need to get it out. "Remember how you told me how much you like Piper?" I flip a pancake onto her plate.

She tucks a napkin into the neck of her t-shirt. "Uh huh."

I smear a pat of butter on the flapjack. "Turns out I like her, too…like a lot."

"What about Hilda?"

"I like Hilda, but not in the same way I like Piper." I slide the Mrs. Butterworth's to her. "Not too much, kiddo."

She squirts the maple syrup all over her pancake, and then hands the container back to me. "Why do you like them different?"

"Well…" I sit on the stool next to her. "I like Piper…as a girlfriend, and I want to be…_involved_ with her." That's not the word I wanted to use, and now I know I'll have some explaining to do.

Her brows knit. "What does that mean?"

I twist my hands in my lap. "I…I love her," I say, waiting with bated breath for her reaction.

"You _love_ her?"

I turn her stool so that she's facing me. "I love Piper as your nanny _and_ as the woman I want to be with."

"So…you want to kiss her and stuff?"

"Yeah…" That causes me to smile bashfully. "Kissing is part of it."

Her face contorts, but she's quick with a response. "Will she still take care of me?"

"Yes." I place a hand on her knee. "If that's what you want."

She nods. "Is Hilda going to be ok if she's not my nanny?"

"She'll be fine." I lean forward. "In fact, I talked to her a couple days ago and she needs to stay home to take care of Anna."

"But she's Anna's mommy, not her nanny," she reasons.

"Exactly. Sometimes mommies can stay at home to take care of their children, and other times they have to work like me," I try. "We can still see Hilda if you want just not every day."

"Can we see the baby, too?"

"Yeah." I carefully check her expression for any signs of concern, and when I see none, I proceed. "Would it be ok if I hold Piper's hand in front of you?"

"I hold her hand all the time." She returns her attention to the pancake. "So you can, too."

I help her cut it. "How would that make you feel?"

"Good." She shoves a bite into her mouth. "Happy."

"Happy?" I laugh, thrilled that Harper would use such a word to describe how she's doing with what I considered a major announcement.

She nods.

I take it a step further. "Would you be ok if Piper lived with us and shared a room with me?"

Her eyebrows shoot up. "She could _live_ here?"

"If it's alright with you, yes."

Harper raises her hands in the air, flinging syrup onto the floor. "Yes!"

I take her in my arms and squeeze her tightly. "You have no idea how happy you just made me."

"Is this why you made pancakes this morning?"

"That, plus I know how much you like them." My smile might break my face in two. "How is it?"

"Not as yummy as the ones Piper makes, but it's still good."

"Oh, really?" I move around the counter to make another one. "What's so yummy about hers?"

Harper shovels another forkful into her mouth. "She puts stuff in them like chocolate chips or blueberries."

"I'll have to ask her for the recipe."

"But if she lives with us, she can make them every day."

"I wouldn't get too carried away, kiddo." I put a dollop of batter onto the griddle. "Pancakes are still a special occasion breakfast."

She grins. "We'll see about that."

* * *

Harper and I spend the day together, feeding the ducks in the park, drawing on the sidewalk with colorful chalk and practicing her reading. I offer her dinner in bed, and she's excited by the prospect.

"Like we did at the hotel?"

"Yep, but we don't have room service, so I'll have to make dinner, and then we can eat it in my bed."

"Can Piper come?"

I didn't expect such a request, but I get that familiar fluttering in my stomach. "I don't know, but I can ask her if you want."

She nods.

"Why don't you pick up your toys, and I'll call Piper."

The phone rings twice before Piper answers. "How did it go?"

"Better than expected." I feel a tinge of pink on my cheeks, and it's not like I'm embarrassed, but I'm overwhelmed with a feeling of joy. "As a matter of fact, Harper wants to know if you'd like to join us for dinner in bed."

"Tonight?"

"Yeah." I eye my daughter as she tidies up the living room and hums an unfamiliar song. "If you're busy, I'm sure she'd understand."

"No, no. I'd love to." I can hear her smiling.

"Good. Get here as soon as you can. Oh, and if it's not too much trouble, can you pick up pizza or something? If not, grilled cheese will have to do."

"I'm on it."

Harper decides which stuffed animals she wants to join us in bed, and then she takes a bubble bath. I've monitored her all day for signs of dissatisfaction, but she's as easy going and cheerful as she usually is.

Piper arrives just as Harper puts on her pajamas, and she beats me downstairs to greet her.

"My mommy told me you like each other," Harper announces.

She bends down to my daughter's eye level, and then glances at me. "We do."

I'm sure the shit-eating grin on my face gives everything away.

"And now you can stay with us, and we can play all the time," my daughter adds.

"Not all the time, Harper." I join them in the entryway. "Even though Piper will be here more often than she is now, she has work to do just like I do. She can't play with you every second she's here."

Harper creases her brow. "Why not?"

"I'm in school just like you," Piper explains, getting to her feet. "I have lots and lots of homework. I'll still be able to take you to school in the morning and play with you for a few hours before your mommy gets home from work."

"Oh." She looks up at me. "Can we have dinner in bed now?"

"Sure can." I lean over, kissing Piper on the cheek. "Hi."

"Hi," she greets me with bright eyes and a wide smile. "I brought pizza."

"Yes!" Harper makes a pumping motion with her arm. "I'm going in your bed, mommy!" She takes off upstairs. "Can I have some milk?"

"Yes," I call. "We'll be there in a minute."

She takes off her jacket, hanging it on the coat rack. "So, it went well?"

I wrap my arms around her waist. "_Very_ well."

Piper strings her arms over my shoulders, and I bask in our closeness and the way she smells all light and fresh like grass or cucumbers. I press my lips against hers, and my heart feels like it could jump right out of my chest.

"Even the eventual living together part?" She asks between kisses.

"Yes." I punctuate the word with one more firm kiss on her lips before pulling back, placing a hand on her cheek. "But I think that'll be a case of having to experience it rather than just explaining it."

"Probably." She releases me. "But it's a good start."

"I can't believe how easy this is," I say. "Maybe I should keep my mouth shut so I don't jinx it."

Her lips tug up. "I don't think you could jinx this. It's too…perfect."

"It's pretty damn close to perfect." I lift her off the ground and kiss her one final time before letting go.

"Are you coming?" Harper calls exasperated from my bedroom.

"Be right there," I yell. "I guess we should have dinner in bed now."

"I guess we should." She picks up the pizza box. "You get the drinks and meet me upstairs?"

"I'm right behind you."

"Is _Double Dare_ on?" I hear Harper ask when Piper reaches my room.

"Let's find out."

I meet them upstairs with two longnecks and a cup of milk for Harper, and when I see them in bed together, I'm struck by how _familiar_ it feels. It's a deeper, more pronounced feeling than when we were at the resort in Newport, but even then, I wanted this to happen. _I want this to be my family_.

"Mom, _Double Dare_ is on!" Harper exclaims.

I hand three paper plates and a stack of napkins to Piper.

"I hope someone gets slimed again," she giggles.

I settle into bed, and Piper helps me with the beverages while simultaneously getting Harper situated with a piece of cheese pizza.

I take a slice of my own and observe Piper and Harper's interactions. They behave quite similarly to when we were in Newport, and I see no indication from my daughter that this feels weird. Maybe it was natural to her at the resort and she doesn't feel like this is any different. As Piper puts a napkin on Harper's lap, her other hand slides to my thigh. It's a simple gesture that has no sexual connotations, but it makes my heart swirl. I continue eating my pizza, keenly aware of her hand, until she looks up at me and smiles. It's one of her most tender, reassuring smiles and I can't help returning it. I swallow a bite, and then lean over and kiss her on the temple.

Just like in Newport, Harper falls asleep about 20 minutes after she finishes eating. I carry her to her bed, and then return to my room.

Piper gathers all of our plates and napkins, piling them on top of the pizza box. "Did she stay asleep?"

"Yeah." I pick up the two beer bottles and follow her to the kitchen. "Once she's asleep, she's usually out until morning." I don't know why I'm nervous about asking Piper to spend the night, but my stomach churns. It's not that it's too soon, but I plucked her out of whatever she was doing this evening, and I don't want to seem selfish or assume she didn't have plans tonight.

She tosses the paper plates into the garbage. "I should've brought beer."

"I have a six pack in the fridge." I open the stainless steel door and peek inside. "Well, four since we just drank two." My nerves are still present, but if she _should've brought beer_, that means she wants to drink with me. "Want another one?"

"Sure." She washes her hands.

I pop open two more bottles of Amstel Light. "Living room or bedroom?"

She swivels her head around and grins. "Living room. Beer in bed sounds weird."

"We just drank it in bed." I hand her a bottle. "What's weird about it?"

"That was under the guise of eating pizza in bed with Harper." She sits on the sofa and lifts her shoulders. "Generally speaking, if there's any boozing in bed, it should be Champagne."

I sit next to her, tossing an arm over the back of the sofa. "I can make that happen."

"I'll take you up on that some other time." Her hand lands on my thigh. "I'm glad things went well with her today."

"Me, too." I sip the beer. "You were right about her reaction—she was actually excited by the prospect of you living here."

"About that—"

I freeze with the bottle halfway to my mouth. I wasn't expecting a rebuttal.

She knits her brow. "Are you sure you want me to move in?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't sure." I lower the beer bottle. "Are you having second thoughts?"

"No." She shakes her head. "This is just all moving so fast."

With the sudden need to feel grounded, I hold her hand. "Which is why if you think it's too soon to move in, I totally understand."

"The rational part of me wonders if it's too soon," she sighs. "But it feels like I've known you for years—that we've been together for a long time and this is the next step."

I swallow the lump in my throat. "You're still another two weeks away from your lease being up. What if you spent a few nights a week with me, and if it doesn't feel right, you can find another place to live?"

She lowers her eyes. "I highly doubt that it won't feel right."

"Let's just see." I shrug. "Deal?"

Piper looks at me, lips quirking upwards. "Deal."

"Starting with tonight?" I blurt out before allowing my nerves to settle back in.

"Yeah." She leans forward and kisses me soundly. "I'd like that." When Piper pulls back, the look in her eyes has shifted from worry to wanting.

I'm surprised at the change in mood, but I welcome it. I lift a hand to her cheek, then close the distance between us again. Even though I'm sitting, kissing Piper almost makes me lose my balance. Her tongue darts out silently indicating she isn't satisfied with a chaste kiss. I match her quiet exploration by tilting my head and deepening the kiss and am rewarded with a low growl. I smile against her mouth, but it quickly fades as Piper's hand crawls up my neck and to my cheek as her tongue probes further.

In no time, I'm surrendering to her in my living room, and it feels good to allow Piper to take the lead. We remain mostly dressed, but her hand sneaks into my underwear, one finger exploring my wet center. I buck into her hand, and she knows I want more contact. She slides another finger down there, making it easier to apply pressure to my clit. It's funny how my mouth can go dry even though we're kissing, but it seems all of my liquid has pooled between my legs. I tilt my head back, and her lips latch onto my neck. She adjusts her position on the sofa to get a better angle and apply more force to her ministrations, and my eyes slam shut. A moan escapes my mouth as I feel that familiar pressure coil up inside me. I grab her wrist and feel her hand dip deeper into my underwear. When one finger slips into my opening, I'm gone.

My hips jut off the sofa, demanding more contact as I ride out a slow-burning orgasm that doesn't seem to stop. Even though this moment could hardly be called _making love_, I feel a profound connection to Piper.

Thirty seconds later, I'm a panting, sweating, well-satiated woman. "That was unexpected."

She retreats her hand, and I can see the glistening liquid on her fingers. She pops them into her mouth, turning me on again.

Piper smirks. "But enjoyable it seems."

"Very." I run my fingers through her hair. "Maybe we could move to the bedroom where there's a locking door."

"But we haven't finished our beers," she teases, nipping at my lower lip.

I apply more pressure to her mouth. "The last thing on my mind right now is drinking beer." I stand on wobbly legs and reach a hand out.

Piper takes it, and we journey upstairs for what I'm confident will be another round of decadent sex.


	10. Chapter 10

The next week feels similar to the one before—I work nine or ten hours, and then come home to my daughter. The big difference is that Piper has slept over four of the seven nights. Harper doesn't seem to mind; in fact, she loves waking up when Piper is already here.

"Can we have pancakes today?"

"We're having quiche this morning." Piper grabs oven mitts out of the drawer. "But if your mom is ok with it, we can have pancakes over the weekend."

Piper still checks with me about even the little things concerning Harper, and while I appreciate it, I want her to know she doesn't have to. Of course I want to be consulted about bigger things, but in terms of what Harper eats or wears, I trust Piper's judgement implicitly.

I slide a cup towards her. "Here you go."

She sips the apple juice. "What's quiche?"

"It's an egg-based pie with lots of yummy veggies inside." She opens the oven and pulls out a round dish. "I think you'll enjoy it."

"It smells good."

I cross the kitchen to grab my coffee thermos, kissing Piper on the cheek as I breeze by. "Cut me a piece to go?"

"Mommy, can Joseph come over tomorrow?"

"Uh, yeah." I've been too distracted lately to have reached out to Joseph's dads about a play date, but I vow to make it happen today. "Maybe he and his parents can join us for lunch."

"Why do his parents have to come?"

"Because it's good when parents get to know each other," Piper chimes in. "That way, when they see each other at the grocery store or walking down the street, they can say hello."

"Oh." She tucks a napkin into the collar of her shirt. "Did you know Joseph has two dads?"

I glance at Piper before responding with a simple, "Yeah."

"I don't have any dads," she replies.

"Remember your mom talked to you about different family types?" Piper picks up the slack. "Some children have one mom or one dad, some have a mom _and_ a dad, and some have two moms or two dads."

Harper blinks up at her. "That's a lot of math."

"The point is that families don't always look the same," I add. "And we respect _all_ families."

Piper places a slice of quiche on a small plate and another on a piece of foil.

"Is Piper going to be part of our family?"

My lips quirk to the side and once again, I look at Piper. Judging by her non-response, she wants me to tackle this one. "She's already part of our family."

"But she's not my mommy," Harper reasons.

"No, but she's your nanny and my girlfriend," I try. "Did you feel like Hilda was part of our family?"

She nods.

"Well, this is like that, but I love Piper in a different way—a romantic way."

"In a kissy way." Harper giggles.

"Yes, in a kissy way." I kiss Piper firmly on the mouth and Harper laughs louder. "I'll reach out to Joseph's dad today to see if they can all come over tomorrow. If not, then we'll get something on the calendar."

"If he can't come over tomorrow, maybe Jasmine can."

I kiss her forehead. "Maybe."

I wrap my piece of quiche tightly, and then stick it in my bag. "I forgot to ask—my mom wants to meet you. Would you be down for Sunday brunch?"

Piper smiles. "Yeah, I'd like that."

"Good." I give her one more peck on the lips. "We can talk about logistics later."

"It's too hot!" Harper spits the quiche onto her napkin.

Piper pulls the plate away and fans it. "Sorry about that."

"Drink some juice." I shrug into my jacket and pull Piper to the side. "Can you stay here tonight?"

"I'm meeting some friends for happy hour after you get home from work." She toys with my collar. "I wish you could join me."

"You never asked."

"Who would take care of Harper with such late notice?"

"Tell you what." I squeeze her hand. "Let me deal with that. If you see one of Joseph's dads at drop-off, will you mention the play date to him?"

"Sure." She hands me an umbrella. "I've met Kurt before; he seems like a nice guy."

"Thanks." I return to the kitchen to bid farewell to Harper again.

"I tasted the quiche again and it's not too hot anymore. I like it."

"How is it that she eats anything you make?"

Piper lifts her shoulders and smirks. "I have the magic touch."

* * *

The day flies by at work, and before I know it, I'm the last one in the office at quarter past six. Fridays are usually like this—everyone is ready to begin the weekend and can't wait to get out of the financial district before the mad dash of tourists roll in to see the Statue of Liberty from Battery Park or the September 11 Memorial.

"I'm home!" I shove the wet umbrella into the container near the front door.

"We're in here," Harper calls.

I take off my jacket and watch Piper concentrate on painting my daughter's toenails. "Are you giving each other pedicures?"

"Want one?" Piper asks, head still bowed.

"How much do you charge?" I hang the jacket on the coat rack.

"It's free, silly," Harper replies through a laugh. "I picked the color."

I approach the makeshift spa area. "Is that purple?"

"Technically it's called Posh Plum," Piper says. "We bought it at the drugstore today."

I bend over to see Piper's handiwork. "Nice."

"All done." She finally sits upright and smiles at me. "Hey."

I kiss her on the temple. "Hey."

"Do you like it, mommy?"

"I love it. Piper has a career as a pedicurist if psychology doesn't work out."

She chuckles and turns to my daughter. "They have to dry so you're going to have to sit here for another 15 minutes or so, ok?"

"Ugh, that's a long time," she complains.

"I told you that from the start." Piper stands, pulling down the hem of her shirt. "Don't pretend you don't remember that."

"Oh, Piper," Harper playfully sighs.

"Where'd she get that from?" I chuckle.

She puts her hands on her hips. "I wonder."

I point a thumb at my chest. "Me?"

Piper raises her eyebrows expectantly.

"Oh, Piper," I repeat just for show, leaving my daughter in stitches.

"Were you able to find a sitter?" Piper asks on her way to the kitchen.

"I was." I follow her. "Hilda is coming over for a couple hours."

"Hilda?"

I nod. "She was happy to be asked, and she's looking forward to meeting you."

She strings her arms around my waist in the middle of the kitchen. "Well, my friends are looking forward to meeting _you_."

"Good." I kiss her, and it goes a little deeper than I'd initially intended.

"What time will she be here?"

I glance at my watch. "Any minute."

"Crap, ok." She untangles herself from me and starts putting things away in the kitchen. "Mind if I freshen up before we head out?"

"Go. I've got this."

She kisses my cheek before heading upstairs.

I take four long strides towards the stairwell. "Did you talk to Joseph's dad about a play date tomorrow?"

"They can't make it this weekend, but they can come over next Saturday."

Harper makes a face. "That's a long time from now."

"It'll fly by. Besides, you'll see him at school on Monday."

After spending five minutes tidying up in the kitchen, I sit next to my daughter and hear about her day. It isn't long before Hilda arrives, and Harper can't wait to greet her.

"Hi, sweetie," Hilda says. "You've grown so much!"

"I'm going to be tall like my mommy."

I hug our former nanny. "Thanks so much for coming."

"It's a pleasure to get away for a while. Not that I don't love Anna, but her father could use some bonding time."

Piper comes downstairs in the same jeans she was wearing earlier but in a gray cotton blouse with brightly colored flowers on either side of the V-neck. Her hair is down and wavy and she's dabbed her lips with gloss. She just about takes my breath away.

Hilda walks towards the staircase. "You must be Piper."

"And you're Hilda." She shakes her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Harper talks about you all the time."

Hilda smiles. "I think about her often, too."

While the two of them exchange greetings, I run upstairs to change into jeans, choosing to stay in the purple side-tie blouse I have on. I tousle and spray my hair, touch up my makeup, and then head back downstairs to find Piper and Hilda laughing with each other.

"I'm glad the two of you finally met," I say as I enter the living room.

"So am I," Piper says. "There are all sorts of leftovers in the fridge—quiche, chicken & broccoli stir fry and sweet potato casserole. Help yourselves to whatever."

Hilda moves next to Harper. "We'll be fine."

"Look at my toes," Harper announces.

Hilda bends over. "Oh, they're beautiful."

"Want to paint my nails?"

"I'd be happy to."

When I'm confident all is well, I hand Piper her jacket and put mine on as well. "We won't be gone past ten. I hope that's ok."

"Perfect," Hilda says. "It was nice meeting you, Piper. Have fun."

* * *

We board the Subway hand in hand, and I feel a sense of euphoria that Piper and I are out in public for only the second time and I _can't wait_ to spend the evening with her. I don't mind that we're going to be with other people as long as Piper is by my side.

"I'm kind of embarrassed that I know virtually nothing about your friends."

"I don't know anything about your friends," she retorts.

"That's because I don't have any," I admit. "At least not any close ones. Having Nicky as my best friend was like having six friends wrapped into one. She was…larger than life."

She squeezes my hand. "I wish I could've met her."

* * *

"_I have quite the lineup for us tonight, Vause." Nicky gives me a firm pat on the back._

_I tug on my pointy leather boots. "I still can't believe you want to go out when you have a three month old at home."_

"_Harper will be well taken care of," she replies. "Besides, all she does is sleep, eat and poop—not a whole lot of responsibility needed for that."_

"_It doesn't feel weird to you?" I fasten my earing. "That you're going to rage in a club while your daughter is at home with a virtual stranger?"_

"_First, I've mentioned this before—it doesn't feel weird," she says. "And second, I hired someone from a babysitting agency to take care of Harper for four fucking hours. It's not like I hired a thief off the street." She removes two fresh diapers and some baby wipes from her purse, replacing it with a pack of Marlboros. "I need a night on the town, and you promised you'd indulge me."_

_I let out a long breath. "You've been out at least once a week since Harper was born."_

"_You keeping tabs on me? If I wanted a mother, I'd live at home." Nicky gives me a look, and then returns to the living room, kissing Harper on the cheek. "Be good for this nice lady."_

"_She'll be fine." The babysitter smiles. "Would you mind showing me where everything is before you take off?"_

"_I'm going to call a car." Nicky glances my way. "Vause, show this fine young lady what's what in here."_

_I spend the next few minutes showing the babysitter where the diapers, wipes and Desitin rash lotion is, and then I show her the pre-made bottles of formula in the kitchen. "I hope she doesn't get fussy tonight, but if she does, try playing Chopin or Vivaldi. It seems to calm her down." I hand her my iPod. "Just make sure it's connected to the speaker."_

"_Thanks," she responds. "Nicky hired me until midnight. I hope that's still the plan—I have an early morning flight to catch and haven't started packing."_

"_We'll be back by midnight for sure." I kiss Harper. "Bye, little one."_

"_The car is here!" Nicky yells from the stoop._

"_Call or text if you need anything."_

"_Will do."_

_By the time we hit the third bar, Nicky has consumed four rum & Cokes and smoked half a pack of cigarettes. While I've enjoyed my share of cocktails and the company of a few of the women joining us for an evening on the town, I haven't allowed myself to overindulge. This isn't like me—I've always loved hanging out with friends, drinking and smoking. One of my favorite pastimes used to be dancing at the club, but tonight, I feel old and out of practice._

"_Why are you sitting this one out, Vause?" Nicky smells like liquor and cigarettes._

_I shrug. "I'm just not feeling it."_

"_You fucking love to dance!" She does a little shimmy next to me. "And there are some hot women on the dance floor. Like __**really**__ hot. As a matter of fact, there's one waving at me now." She smiles and waves at the scantily clad woman. "I better not leave her lonely." She moves back to the crowded dance floor._

_All I can think about is how I'm going to get this stench off my clothes before going home and filling the air with the smell of cigarettes. Could it affect Harper's breathing? Maybe I should strip in the living room and dump my clothes into the washing machine before going upstairs where I'll promptly take a shower. I wonder if I could convince Nicky to do the same._

_Another hour passes and Nicky's eyes are bloodshot. It's almost midnight and I'm thankful we have to leave. I catch her eye and tap my watch to indicate it's time to go, but she turns her back to me and continues dancing with a different woman. _

_At quarter to twelve, I pull her off the dance floor. "We need to go."_

"_Things are just heating up in here!" She strings her arms over my shoulders. "If you dance with me to this one song, I promise I'll text the sitter and tell her we're going to be a few minutes late."_

"_She can't stay past midnight," I shout over the thumping music. "I already checked."_

"_It's not like she's going to abandon a newborn child, Vause. She'll stay with Harper out of moral obligation," Nicky tries._

"_I'm not doing this." I shake my head. "You're a fucking mother, Nicky! It's time to go home to your child!"  
_

"_You're a fucking party pooper, Vause!" she yells equally loud. "When did you turn all soft on me, huh? Tell you what—if you're so concerned about relieving the babysitter, go for it." She spreads her arms. "I'm not leaving."_

_The woman she was dancing with earlier tugs her back to the middle of the dance floor, and I watch her walk away. A feeling of abandonment hits me square in the chest—not that my best friend is abandoning me, but that she'll eventually abandon her daughter._

* * *

I shake off that memory and return my attention to Piper. "Anyway, tell me who we're meeting tonight."

"I'm not sure exactly who's going to be there, but I'll start with my oldest friend, Polly Harper."

An elderly man gets up, and I gesture for Piper to take the seat. She does, scooting over enough for us to share it.

"Polly and I went to school together. She's got a dry sense of humor and she's wicked smart. She's pretty protective of me, so don't be surprised if she grills you," she begins. "She owns a soap company with her fiancé, Pete."

"I hope I don't slip and call her Harper." I grin.

Piper smiles.

The Subway makes the first stop and several people get off, allowing me to have my own seat, but I don't let go of Piper's hand.

"Then there's Ronna who is a total New Yorker. She has a thick accent and loves everything about the city."

"How do you know her?"

"We were in grad school together. She worked in St. Clare's psych ward for a short time, but now she's a writer for _Psychology Today_."

"Interesting."

"Minka is the one who organized the whole happy hour. She and I worked at the clinic together this summer, and she defended her dissertation a little over a year ago."

"Do you pick her brain often?"

"She's an amazing resource, but our research isn't on the same topic. They're both about children, but in totally different psychological contexts."

"I see."

"There's a chance Jamari will be there, but you never know when he'll show up."

"Who's Jamari?"

"He's an international model," Piper replies. "And he's flamboyant as hell. Jamari doesn't have a shy bone in his body. I hope he's in town so you can meet him."

The Subway makes its second stop where we get off and head down West 86th Street. Piper loops her arm through mine and I place my hand over hers.

"Where are you taking me?"

"A place called The Mermaid Inn," she replies, snuggling against my body as the breeze picks up. "They have the best raw oysters. I hope you like oysters."

"Love them."

A black man playing the guitar for money whistles at us on the street. "Damn, ya'll fine!"

We get a good laugh out of it as I toss a $5 bill into his guitar case.

I can see the restaurant down the street, and the patio is bustling on this Friday evening. "I hope your friends got a table."

"They're probably at the bar." Piper walks ahead of me, opening the door, sliding her other hand down my arm and linking our fingers.

"Piper!" I hear someone yell over the jumbled conversations in the crowded bar. "Over here!"

I already like this place with its long marble bar, leather stools and red accents everywhere. I recognize a song by Blackmill playing in the background and determine that The Mermaid Inn has a sort of groovy vibe to it without being too hipster or fancy.

Piper maneuvers through the crowd, and we arrive at a tall table towards the back with seven stools in the bar area—six of them are occupied.

"You made it!" A thin black man wearing a purple, button-up shirt and a fedora stands and hugs her. "You must be Alex." He holds his hand out, bent at the wrist. "I'm Jamari."

"Nice to meet you."

He puts his finger on his cheek, eyeing me up and down. "I heard you were attractive, but Piper didn't say you were drop dead gorgeous," he clicks. "Look at those cheekbones…and that hair!"

"Thank you." Flushed by his compliment, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

Piper introduces me to everyone at the table, and they all scoot down so there's one free stool at the end. I gesture for her to take the seat as I stand next to her.

"Did you already eat the oysters?" Piper asks.

"We put an order in a couple of minutes ago—two dozen," Minka says.

"Perfect."

A server approaches our table. "Looks like we have new guests. What can I get you?"

I look to Piper, silently inviting her to order first. "Since we're having oysters, I'm going to go with a glass of sparkling wine. Alex?"

"Same."

No sooner is the waitress gone before everyone at the table is peppering me with questions. At first, I'm a little overwhelmed, and then I slip into conference mode. I attend at least two conferences every year where I'm forced to meet new people and interact with them socially. While hanging out with strangers isn't my favorite way to spend an evening, I'm pretty good at small talk. I answer their questions as succinctly as possible and am rewarded several times with Piper's hand on my arm.

Our sparkling wine is delivered at the same time as the oysters, and the conversation continues effortlessly. The focus steers towards the many ways to eat oysters, and I'm able to concentrate on Piper for a moment. The bar is lit mostly with votive candles, but it's bright enough to see her long neck exposed as she shoots an oyster down her throat. There's something erotic about watching her slurp down the bivalve, and I wonder if that's part of the reason oysters are considered an aphrodisiac—the simple act of eating them conjures up images of something entirely different and erotic.

We order another round of drinks, and Polly switches stools with Minka to talk to me.

"I hear you have a daughter named Harper."

"I do. You two should meet sometime," I say over the music. "She'd get a kick out of it."

"I'd like that." Polly smiles. "So, you're dating my best friend."

I nod, lifting my champagne flute but not taking a sip. "I am."

"She's very special to me."

"That makes two of us."

"She's really into you, Alex." She leans closer. "Like _really_ into you."

"Good." I grin, placing my hand at the curve of Piper's back as she listens to Jamari tell a story. "Cause I'm into her, too. Like _really_."

She pulls back, looking me in the eye. "Don't hurt her."

I smirk. "I don't intend to."

She clinks her glass against mine. "Here's to Piper."

I raise my glass high before taking another sip. "To Piper."

Another round of drinks appears, and that's when I learn that one of the women at the table owns the place. It also comes to be that the owner is dating Minka. This little revelation unfolds as a surprise to me as well as to Piper when Minka tucks the owner's hair aside and places a string of kisses along her tattooed neck.

I make a face and grin at Piper who giggles, covering her mouth with her slender fingers to seemingly control a snort that's bound to surface.

An hour later, I'm at the other end of the table talking to Jamari and Ronna. They are both inebriated but not so far gone that they can't speak. Every few minutes, I glance at Piper who seems embroiled in a political conversation with the other people in our party. The candlelight catches the curve of her neck and her wavy blonde hair bounces when she gesticulates, and I think anyone who doesn't find her stunning is either stupid or blind. The thought of Piper going home with me tonight sends shivers down my spine.

A few of the patrons in the bar start dancing, and it's then that I realize Piper and I have never danced together. All Jamari needed was the hint of a dance party to make him participate, so he grabs my hand and starts grooving with me to a _Say My Name_ remix. It's been at least four years since I've gone dancing, and I'd forgotten how _freeing_ it feels.

I glance over my shoulder to see Piper watching me. If the bar was brighter, I could see the intrigue and curiosity in her eyes, but for now, I imagine it to be true. Over the loud music and cacophony of voices, I hear her stool scrape the ground and know she's making her way to me, but I don't fully turn around. Instead, Piper approaches me from behind and moves with me. I set the pace, and she doesn't miss a beat. Her right arm stretches around my waist, fingertips digging into my hip. I take a chance and change the movement of my body from left to right, and she follows suit. I move my hips forward, and she does the same. It's as if our bodies are fused together. I slowly turn into her arms and mine go over her shoulders. She bites her lower lip but there's a seductive grin on her face. I bend my neck to kiss her. It's a test—can I be this physically demonstrative with her when we're with her friends?

I'm rewarded with the squeeze of my hip and a tilted head, a sure sign that she wants more. I'm not going to devour her in the bar, but when we get home, I won't be able to wait until we get upstairs to show her how attracted I am to her.

The song fades into another, and I pull back, smiling. "You're a good dancer."

"So are you." She leads me back to the table.

I sit on the stool and tug her to stand between my legs. "We should go dancing sometime. Like real dancing in a club."

"I'd like that." She thrusts her hips forward and locks our fingers together. "Maybe we could stay in a hotel or something after."

"Yes." I punctuate my statement with one raised eyebrow.

Piper leans down for a kiss, and even though we've only been together for a short period of time, I know the look on her face.

"We should get out of here."

She places a hand on my cheek. "I'm just on the edge of drunkenness."

Although it's clear she wants me, I don't want to assume Piper is going home with me, so I give her an out. "You should stay—have fun with your friends."

Piper grabs my right hand in both of hers. "I want to be with you."

"You can be with me tomorrow." I take the final sip of my third sparkling wine.

She leans closer, whispering in my ear, "I want to be with you tomorrow…_and_ tonight." This time despite the lack of light, I can see desire in her eyes.

"We're going to take off," I announce loud enough for at least three people to hear. "It was nice meeting all of you." I toss a $100 bill on the table. "I'd like to do it again some time."

"You are a delight." Jamari throws his arms around my neck. "Take care of our girl."

"I will." I kiss him on the cheek.

After several more hugs and handshakes, I bid my farewell and hold Piper's hand as she finishes saying goodbye. I love the feeling of our joined hands and knowing she's coming home with me.

By the time we make it on the Subway, it's clear that Piper is a tad over tipsy. She's caught between buzzed and drunk, and it's adorable. She's more touchy than usual and her eyes and lips sag a bit. When I say something to make her laugh, it comes out as a cackle, causing others to stare. It only serves to endear her to me that much more.

We arrive at my house at 9:50 and Hilda is asleep on the sofa.

"Hilda?" I touch her shoulder and she jerks awake.

She rubs her eyes. "Oh, hi. What time is it?"

"Almost ten." I sit next to her. "Let me call you a car."

"Thank you." She sits up. "How was your night?"

"Good. How was yours?"

"We had a great time together. I can't believe how much better Harper has gotten at reading."

I smile. "We've been working with her a lot."

Hilda stands. "It's paid off."

"I have an Uber on the way," Piper announces from the area between the kitchen and living room. "I hope we can see each other again soon."

"Me, too."

They hug, and then I follow suit. "Thank you so much for watching Harper tonight. I know it meant a lot to her, too."

She straps her purse over a shoulder. "I was glad you called me."

I tuck a $50 bill into the pocket of her jacket. "I'll be sure to call more often."

"Good night, Alex…Piper."

She waves. "Good night."

I close the door behind her and turn around to find Piper at the base of the stairwell.

"I'm going to check on Harper."

I smile. "Should I meet you upstairs or…"

She twists her neck around to look at me; judging from the look in her eyes, she doesn't need to respond.

There was no question where the night would lead, and I'm not disappointed _at all_ about it. The sex is a little messy with the half-inebriated state Piper is in, but as it turns out she's a little more adventurous, when she's got some booze in her system. There's some anal play involved, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't feel good. The only thing I don't like about drunk sex with Piper is that it's over all too soon. After about 30 minutes, she passes out halfway on top of me, and I just smile.


	11. Chapter 11

The rain from the day before brought sunshine and cooler weather on this mid-September Saturday, and it's too beautiful of a day to be inside. I convince Piper to take a day off from her research to join Harper and I in Central Park. Although she woke up with a little hangover, she's fine after eating a hearty breakfast.

We walk to The Loch followed by Belvedere's Castle, and Harper is almost always running five feet ahead of us. I wish I had half of her boundless energy. Piper and I put our arms around each other, hold hands and occasionally steal a chaste kiss or two as we stroll through the Park. Harper wants to participate in the catch and release fish program in the Harlem Meer, so we spend about an hour helping her try to catch one. When she finally catches a perch, it's as if she just won an Olympic medal.

We buy sandwiches from a food cart, eat under the shade of a willow tree and listen to a jazz band playing across the lawn. There are people tossing a frisbee, women roller blading around the Park, and families playing hide & seek. Joy surrounds us and I'm struck with an overwhelming sense of pride that I'm here with Harper and Piper—my family. I curl my lips and am startled as the word _family_ all but comes out of my mouth. It's not what I would've expected, and it's way too soon (or it _should_ be) to give voice to such a concept, but I can't shake the feeling that's what we are.

Harper points to a gaggle of girls blowing bubbles. "Mom, can we blow bubbles?"

"I don't know where to buy them," I respond. "But you could go ask the girls if you can play with them."

She looks at Piper for reassurance, and when Piper smiles, Harper takes off.

We watch her tap a girl on the shoulder and ask her if she could blow bubbles, and the seemingly older girl hands the bottle to her.

"She's brave," Piper comments, placing her hand over mine as I lean back and cross my legs at the ankles.

"She's never had a shy bone in her body." I lift one arm and tuck Piper against my side. "That part of her is all Nicky."

She looks up at me. "I love spending time with her."

I give her a genuine smile. "And she loves that you do; _I _love that you do."

She returns her attention to my daughter, who is running through a stream of bubbles and laughing.

"So…" I begin with a hint of trepidation. "We've done the whole sleepover a few times a week thing."

She's still gazing into the distance. "We have."

My shoulders tense. "Was that enough to convince you that we should make it permanent?"

Piper sits up and twists at the waist to look at me. "I didn't need a trial period to convince me."

"You said things were moving too fast."

"You're the one who offered the whole sleepover a few times a week thing," she replies. "I took you up on your offer so it wouldn't seem like I was too eager."

I sit up more fully, brushing the grass off my palms. "I wanted to respect your feelings about the lightning speed of our relationship."

"Thank you." Her fingertips dance across my jawline as she leans in to kiss me. "But I didn't need more time to know how good this is."

My lips quirk up. "So does this mean…?"

Her smile takes over her entire face. "Yeah, it does."

I pretty much tackle her to the ground and kiss whatever part of her face my lips land on. We laugh and hug, and I'm over the moon about Piper's decision to move in with us.

"Is everything ok?" An out of breath Harper asks as she approaches us.

I roll onto my side, Piper still in my arms. "Everything is great."

"Should we make a Harper sandwich?" Piper asks, scooting far enough back until there's a gap between our bodies.

"I think we should," I reply.

Harper crawls between us and we laugh until my stomach hurts.

This might go down as the best day ever.

* * *

The next morning I wake up before Piper, and there's a beam of light shining between the gap in the curtains that streams across her body. She's mostly covered by the white sheets, but her left leg hangs out bent at the knee and wrapped around the sheet, while the top of her breasts are exposed. Her hair is splayed across the pillow and her head is turned towards me. There's no other word to describe Piper other than _angelic_.

I stare at her for an inordinate amount of time, reflecting on how we got to this moment. To think that less than two months ago, I simply wanted to say hello to her on the Subway. I contain the light laugh that threatens to escape at the mere thought of Piper _ever_ being a stranger. My heart flutters when I realize _I get to wake up to her every morning_. The fluttering is so strong that a strange breath escapes my mouth that's as if the wind was knocked out of me like a punch in the gut, only this punch is the sweetest, most delightful one that heals rather than hurts.

I take a risk of waking her by running my hand down her exposed arm that's crooked at the elbow, lightly clutching the sheet with her perfect fingers. The sunlight allows me to see the contrast of our skin color. Although I wouldn't consider Piper tanned, her skin is a shade darker than mine. I trace a circle around a beauty mark just below her elbow and watch her twitch at the repetitive motion. As her mouth hangs slightly open, my thoughts stray from love and contentment to desire.

Piper's eyes flutter open as I prop head on my hand with an elbow bent on the mattress.

"Morning," comes out gravely until she clears her throat. "How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." I grin at her, then focus my attention back on my fingertips dancing on the spot where her arm meets her shoulder.

She blinks the sun out of her eyes and adjusts her head until it's mostly shaded. "It's bright in here."

"I like what the light does to your skin." I move my hand lower, dragging the sheet down until her left breast is exposed. "The way I can see every beauty mark; every scar; every tiny hair."

I run two fingers over her nipple, and it reacts quicker than I expected. She grins at me but remains silent. I return her grin with what I'm sure looks like a lustful smirk, and I know Piper understands where this is headed.

I rub her nipple with a little more force until it's standing at a peak, and then I lower the sheet that was covering her right breast and do the same. She rolls onto her back, eyes never leaving my face. As I caress her skin and make the other nipple stand at attention, Piper's eyes grow darker. I adjust my body until the sunlight streams across her body diagonally and it's like she's under a microscope. Pushing the sheets further down, I watch her stomach muscles tighten as a moan escapes. Her back arches and I can only assume she wants contact someplace else. I smirk before acquiescing.

I drag the sheet all the way down until only one leg is covered, and now Piper's center is exposed to me. I study it—the way her dirty blonde pubic hair is trimmed so short that it can't curl. She must wax, because there is no trace of hair in the crease of her legs or more than two inches above her slit. There's a beauty mark covered by hair, and I brush it aside to get a full look at it. She spreads her legs for me, parting her lips enough for me to see her skin glisten with moisture. I run my index finger through her folds and examine Piper's juices on my fingertip before popping it into my mouth. Another moan escapes, and I look up at her. There's no giddiness on her countenance—only raw desire. She swallows hard at my scrutiny.

Piper lets me examine her like this, only occasionally touching her breasts or her center, for what feels like hours, and I catalogue every inch of exposed skin. I'm surprised she has the self-control to allow my exploration, because if it were the other way around, surely I wouldn't have lasted this long without requesting—_demanding_—more contact.

My fingers press on her clit when Piper finally grabs my hand and clenches her jaw. She still doesn't speak, but I know what she wants. I run those two fingers up and down her slit until I feel my own desire pooling heavily between my thighs. Using my thumb and index finger, I open her pussy and watch her clit pulse. The pink flesh reminds me of a tiny grapefruit, and I can't wait another second to eat it. Positioning myself between her thighs, I bend down to take the first lick. This time, Piper's moan is louder than a whisper. I give her a look, and she shuts her mouth, eyes rolling back in her head.

The sunlight is still flowing through the gap in the curtains and onto her body, and I watch what my tongue does to her, seeing a stretch of cum extend from her center to the tip of my tongue. I twist two fingers into her opening and am rewarded with one leg spreading wider and the other over my shoulder. Piper puts her hands on my head, directing me where she wants me to move. It would be impossible to get any more of my mouth inside her pussy, so I continue lapping at her juices, sucking on her clit and thrusting my fingers inside her until she explodes into a roaring orgasm.

It's loud. _Very_ loud.

"Shhh, shhh, shhh!" I request between licks as she rides my face, but it's no use.

Thirty seconds later, her orgasm subsides and she pants as she pulls me up her body. "Fuck," she whispers, grin slowly spreading across her face. "That was intense."

"Mommy?" I hear a knock. "Mommy are you ok?"

"Fuck!" I whisper, instinctively pulling the sheets over our bodies. "Good morning, kiddo. I'm fine. Did we wake you?"

I've never been so thankful to have locked the door in my life.

"I thought I heard someone screaming."

"Uh, it was just…"

"Your mom was telling me a joke and I was laughing really loud," Piper tries, giving me a look as if she doesn't know what to say either. "Sorry we woke you."

"I was already awake." There's a short pause. "Can I have some juice?"

"I'll be right down," I say.

We remain completely still and silent in the bed until I hear Harper's footsteps go down the stairs.

"Shit, that was close!" I toss my head onto the pillow. "You've never been that loud!"

"Sorry," she replies through a chuckle. "I'm not typically a screamer."

"Could've fooled me." I kiss her nose and crawl out of bed. "We should probably wash these sheets before my mom comes over for brunch."

"I'll strip the bed if you tend to Harper." Piper swings her legs over the edge of the bed and grabs my wrist before I walk away. "Thank you for that."

I smirk. "For what?"

She shrugs. "Honoring my body the way you did."

"Honoring it?" I chuckle.

A blush spreads across her cheeks, and I can see that I've diminished the significance of the moment.

"Piper." I lift her chin with two fingers until she looks me in the eye. "I _worship_ your body. Thank you for letting me make you feel good."

Her lips stretch up. "I love you."

That's the first time those three little words have come out of either of our mouths. We talked about falling in love, but neither of us has said it the way Piper just did.

I let out a soft laugh, filled with joy. "I love you, too." I kiss her once more, long and hard.

"Mom, are you coming?" Harper calls.

* * *

Because of our late start this morning, I ask Piper to go to the grocery while I hang back and chop fruit with my daughter. To be fair, Harper does more eating of the fruit that I chop, but it's nice that it's just me and her for a spell.

I decide to broach the subject with her. "Have you liked having Piper spend the night?"

"I like when I wake up and she's here." She pops an apple slice into her mouth. "She's really good at making food."

I smile. "Better than me?"

She creases her forehead, an expression of genuine curiosity on her face. "When have you cooked?"

I get a good chuckle out of her question. "I make you pancakes and waffles…sometimes scrambled eggs or a sandwich."

"That's not really cooking," Harper responds, pulling grapes off their stems and dropping them into the bowl. "Piper makes meals with lots of ingredients."

I toss in the last apple slice. "Is that the _only_ thing you like about her staying here?"

She tilts her head. "I like that she makes you happy."

I stop in the middle of rinsing off the cutting board and look at her. "How can you tell?"

Harper raises her shoulders, but her attention is focused on mixing the fruit. "You smile a lot."

I dry my hands and return to my position across the counter from her. "More than before?"

She lifts her eyes to look at me. "Yeah."

I'm touched that she's so observant and that she has noticed how happy I am. "Does she make you smile, too?"

She nods. "She's funny and nice and pretty like a princess."

I kiss the top of her head. "She is."

"I'm back!" As if on cue, Piper breezes in.

"Will you go help her?" I stick my arms out so that Harper can hold on to me when she jumps off the stool.

"My mommy thinks you're pretty like a princess," I hear Harper say.

"Does she?" She appears in the kitchen holding two grocery bags. "Well, I think she's pretty, too."

"Harper's the one who mentioned the princess part," I explain, stretching saran wrap over the fruit.

Piper sets the bags on the counter. "You told me you weren't really into princesses."

"I'm not, but that doesn't mean they aren't pretty," Harper replies. "I might still like Cinderella as long as big girls can like her without being made fun of at school."

"Has someone made fun of you for liking Cinderella?" Piper asks.

She shakes her head. "No, but the boys in the class say that princesses are for little girls. I'm a big girl."

Piper lifts Harper until she's sitting across from her on the counter. "Don't let anyone tell you what you should and shouldn't like. Part of being a big girl is being comfortable with who you are, and if you like Cinderella or Barney or even Oscar the Grouch, that's ok."

Harper giggles. "Barney?"

"Some girls like Barney." Piper shrugs. "I liked him until I was a teenager and I didn't care if anyone thought I was silly."

She continues laughing.

She lowers my daughter to the ground. "It's ok if you enjoy things from when you were younger. That doesn't make you a little girl. You're a big girl no matter what."

Harper nods. "Yep."

I kiss Piper on the temple. "Thank you for that."

"You're welcome."

Harper peeks into the bag she was carrying and had since abandoned on the floor. "Can I eat a real breakfast now?"

I begin unpacking one of the bags on the counter. "As opposed to a fake one?"

She opens the pantry and searches its contents. "Fruit isn't breakfast."

I hand Piper a container of vanilla yogurt to put in the fridge. "Gram is coming over in 30 minutes. Don't you want to wait to eat with her?"

She twirls around. "I can eat breakfast twice."

"I need to get started on the frittata." Piper scoots past my daughter to put an armful of groceries in the pantry. "I have some bagels and cream cheese in the other bag. How does that sound?"

"Good, I guess," Harper states.

I pull out the blueberry bagels, pop one into the toaster, and then unload the rest of the groceries with Harper's help.

After she eats the bagel, she helps Piper with the finishing touches of the frittata. Since Piper's first day as the nanny, I've loved watching the two of them together.

"Knock, knock," my mom calls from the doorway. "Since when do you leave your door unlocked?"

I make my way to the front door. "Since I knew you'd be here any minute."

"You should lock it anyway." She kisses my cheek. "You never know what kind of people are roaming the streets."

I take a platter from her hands. "I don't think people who roam around at 10:30 on a Sunday morning are generally the ones breaking into people's homes."

"Gram!" Harper runs into the room to hug her. "I made something for you."

I lift the foil off the platter and carry it to the kitchen. "Biscuits?"

"I made them this morning," she calls as my daughter drags her into the living room. "There's a small container of honey butter on the side."

"Hi, Mrs. Vause." Piper comes out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish towel. "Good to see you again."

My mom hugs her. "Good to see you, too."

"Look, Gram!" Harper holds up a painting that she made in school. "That's you and me putting a puzzle together."

She bends over to look more closely. "Oh, I just love it!"

"You can hang it on your refrigerator like my mommy does with the art I make for her."

"I'll do it as soon as I get home. Thank you, kiddo." She ruffles Harper's hair. "Something smells good in here."

"I'm making a broccoli & sausage frittata. I hope that's ok," Piper announces. "We also have bagels, cream cheese, and a fruit salad. The biscuits are a perfect addition."

My mom makes a shooing motion with her hand. "You didn't have to go through any trouble."

"She cooks like this all the time," I say before returning to the kitchen upon hearing the buzzer go off.

"It's true," Harper agrees. "Piper makes yummy food for us all the time."

"At least someone in this house knows how to cook."

"I heard that," I call. "You all seem to forget that I work 50 hours a week."

"No one's forgetting that, hon," my mom replies.

I picture the three of them laughing conspiratorially in the other room, and nothing makes me happier even though they're giggling at my expense.

We eat brunch at the breakfast table and my mom and Piper ask each other questions to get to know each other better. They seem to like each other right off the bat, which is no surprise. After we eat, Harper helps Piper clear the table, and I send them along with my mom to the living room while I wash the dishes.

I can hear their conversation, and it warms my heart. Piper is telling my mom about how well Harper is doing in school, and my daughter is providing examples. She must've pulled out a book, because she's reading to my mom with only a little help.

"You weren't kidding with how well you're reading," my mom says.

"I like to read. Want me to read another one?"

"Sure!"

Piper breezes into the kitchen, wrapping her arms around my waist. "Your mom is great."

"She is." I smile, drying the last bowl. "From the looks of it, she likes you, too."

"I'm glad." She rests her chin on my shoulder. "Does she know I'm moving in?"

I nod. "I told her a while ago that's where this was headed, but I didn't tell her when."

She pulls away from me and stacks the clean plates. "We haven't discussed an exact date."

I place the dishes in the cupboard. "When would you want to make the move?"

She leans her hip against the counter. "I don't have much stuff. Maybe this Wednesday or Thursday?"

"The sooner the better." I kiss her. "Let's make it Wednesday, and I'll be sure to get home before six."

"Mom and Piper, do you want to see a dance I learned at school?"

"Be right there!" I step aside. "After you."

* * *

EPILOGUE

"Mom, my feet hurt!" Harper complains. "How much longer?"

I take her backpack from her and sling it over my shoulder. "Since when do you have trouble walking half a mile?"

"Since we ran a lot at school today."

"Why were you running at school?" We turn right on Amsterdam.

"We're practicing for Field Day," she responds. "I got to help the Kindergarteners with the 50-yard dash, and then I ran the loop around the field with my friends."

Harper has proven to be quite the runner, and Piper started taking her on short runs in the park on weekends.

I glance at her feet. "Maybe it's time to buy you some new sneakers."

"Yeah, I want blue ones like Jasmine."

"Well, your birthday is just around the corner. Let's put them on your list."

"Can I have a big party with a bouncy house?" She skips around the next corner. "And invite the whole third grade?"

"Maybe." I hold the red door open for her. "Let's discuss this tonight." I smile at the receptionist. "Hi, Soralee. Is she busy?"

The 20-something year old greets me with a wide smile. "She's just wrapping up with a client. Is she expecting you?"

"No, but Harper had a half-day at school, and I thought we'd surprise her with lunch."

My daughter stands on her tip toes and peeks over the counter. "Can I have a lollipop?"

"What color?" Soralee tilts the container so that Harper can choose one.

She pulls out a purple sucker. "Grape."

"You can have that after lunch," I say, and then return my attention to the receptionist. "Does she have an appointment right after this one?"

She shakes her head. "No, you timed it perfectly."

Harper sits in one of the beanbags. "What did you bring for lunch, mommy?"

"Wraps and a Cobb salad." I let her look in the brown bag. "You can choose the Buffalo Ranch Chicken Wrap or the Sweet Potato and Black Bean Lettuce Wrap with crunchy tortilla strips."

She points to the chicken one.

A man and a child who looks to be about Harper's age walk through the back door.

"How'd it go?" Soralee greets them.

"Very well, thank you," the man responds. "Theo, do you want to ask the nice lady for a lollipop?"

He nods and holds out his hands, shifting from one leg to the other. I wonder if he has a speech problem or is Autistic.

"Thank you," he says after pulling a red one out of the jar.

They smile at us before leaving the office.

Harper glances at me. "Is something wrong with that boy?"

"He's just a little different and needs some learning support," I reply.

Soralee picks up the phone. "Dr. Chapman, you have some special visitors in the waiting area."

Thirty seconds later, Piper appears in the doorway with a big smile. "What brings you two here?"

Harper runs to hug her. "I had a half day of school, and my mom wanted to surprise you."

She crouches down to hug my daughter. "I'm totally surprised."

"We brought lunch. Are you hungry?" Harper asks.

"I sure am." Piper grins at me. "You didn't hint at coming by earlier this morning."

I still can't help smiling as far as my lips will allow when I see Piper. "Like she said, we wanted to surprise you."

"I'm glad you did." She steps close enough to kiss me. "Soralee, when's my next appointment?"

"Not until 1:30; you have half an hour."

"Perfect." Piper glances at Harper. "Do you want to eat in my office or on the patio in the back?"

"Patio." She takes off through the back door.

Piper holds my hand as we make our way down the hall and past two other child psychologists' offices. I wave at Dr. Sorenson before joining my daughter on the small patio.

"What did you bring?" Piper peeks in the bag.

Harper relays what's for lunch, and we make small talk as we enjoy each other's company. Although it's not every day that I get to have lunch with the two most significant people in my life, I relish every moment of it.

Since Piper moved in, we've only gotten into one argument that resulted in both of us trying to put family first. She wanted to sacrifice joining the child psychologist practice where she currently works so that she could take care of Harper three days a week, and I didn't want her to miss the opportunity. After compromising, we agreed that on Tuesdays and Thursdays, I'd go into work late so I could drop Harper off at school, and Piper would do the same the other days of the week. It's been two years, and we've rarely had to rely on Hilda or my mom to take care of Harper when there are work commitments that one or both of us have to tend to.

"My mom and I were talking about my birthday party when we were walking here," Harper announces. "Can I have a bouncy house?"

Piper swallows the last bite of salad. "Where would we put it? In the middle of the street?"

She giggles. "No, silly!"

"I don't know if we can swing that," she replies. "But I _have_ put some thought into different themes."

"Like what?"

Piper glances at me. "I haven't run these themes by your mom yet, so I can't promise any of them will fly."

I grab her arm. "Anything that you suggest and can pull off without needing me to plan the majority of it will be great with me."

"The only thing you need to do is bake the cake."

Harper chuckles. "I don't think that's the best idea."

"Why not?" I ask in mock indignation.

She waves a finger between herself and Piper. "We both know who does the cooking around here."

I have to laugh. "Alright, fine." I take a bite of the wrap. "What themes are you considering?"

"Well, there's a movie theme where we could make all kinds of flavored popcorn and eat Junior Mints and M&Ms. You could pick out your favorite films and have a sleep over," she suggests.

"Hmm…I like that idea. What else?"

"We could do the whole thing at the zoo and have a special tour of the new hippopotamus exhibit," she continues. "Or we could do a spa day and give your friends cozy robes and do manicures, pedicures, and facial masks."

"Ooooh, I like that one!"

"Where did you come up with all of these ideas?"

"You know Kurt Williams is a special events coordinator. He gives me all sorts of ideas." She shrugs. "Also Pinterest."

"Are you secretly not a child psychologist at all and instead, spend your days planning elaborate children's birthday parties?"

"Hardly." She chuckles as she glances at her phone. "I hate to do this, but my next client will be here any minute. Thank you so much for such an awesome surprise." She hugs my daughter.

"Maybe we can make invitations to my party when you get home?"

I stuff our trash back into the bag. "Your birthday is in six weeks—let's hold off on that for a bit."

She pouts. "But I want to make the invitations with Piper now."

"Tell you what." Piper bends at the waist. "We can talk about a few more possible themes tonight over dinner, and this weekend, we can play around with Evites on the computer."

"Ok."

"Thanks for lunch, Al." She squeezes my hand and kisses me soundly. "I'll be home just after five."

"See you later." I kiss her once more. "I was thinking of making homemade pizza tonight."

"Yum!" Harper exclaims. "But no tomatoes."

She opens the door for us. "If you buy the ingredients, we can make that happen."

"Can I roll out the dough?" she asks.

"You bet."

As we walk back to the reception area, Harper ticks off the ingredients she wants to make for the perfect pizza. I wink at Piper before she slips back in her office and am rewarded with a gorgeous smile.

I never knew life could be this good or this easy, but somehow it is. I can't imagine sharing it with anyone else.

* * *

Author's Note: Well, folks, this is it. I left this story open for a continuation, but I'm too exhausted to generate new ideas and scenes for our couple. It takes **A LOT** of work to write a story that feels authentic and consistent, and I don't get paid for my efforts. (If only I did!) I doubt I'll write more Vauseman fanfiction in the future, but that all depends on where my Muse takes me and what the final season holds. Thanks to each of you who has been thoughtful enough to leave a review. You have no idea how much they mean to me.


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